


All the World's a Stage

by cywscross



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: BAMF Harry Potter, Crossover, Dimension Travel, Gen, Master of Death Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 05:24:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13264608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cywscross/pseuds/cywscross
Summary: Enter Nanjiroh, whose celebrity status has garnered quite a number of rabid fans. Enter Rinko, whose reputation as a prominent lawyer has acquired just as many enemies. Enter Ryoga, whose shady dealings thus far don't do much for the safety of his family. Enter Ryoma, who just wants to play tennis and doesn't appreciate all the suspicious crazy people trying to kidnap and/or harm him because of his parents. And finally, enter Harry, who really couldn't care less about tennis but is hired on as a certain tennis prodigy's bodyguard.





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting Chapters 1-7, enjoy.

 

"You're a bit young," His soon-to-be employer said slyly.

Harry raised an eyebrow and barely had to think before he became a twenty-year-old instead of a fifteen-year-old.

The man blinked and then grinned. "I had heard rumours you could do some sort of voodoo and change your age but I didn't think they were actually real."

Harry rolled his eyes. "If you didn't think they were real, you wouldn't have gone to the trouble of finding me."

"True," The man agreed cheerfully. "I've seen all sorts of magic happen on the courts. Not quite so... blatantly, but incredible enough."

Harry shrugged. He had a general idea of the tennis world here in which top or rising players had all sorts of reality-defying techniques up their sleeves but that was about it. His closest encounter with tennis before now was walking by that tennis court a few months back after taking down a yakuza gang sent to kidnap a young mafia don. Needless to say, they hadn't succeeded and had been very glad to get away from him and his charge after three-quarters of them had been knocked out.

Now, one might ask how Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Conquer, the Wizarding World's Saviour, and so on and so forth, had snagged a job as a one-man security detail. The answer was actually relatively simple.

Being the Master of Death had its benefits. For one, he had found quite a number of different dimensions to jump to, and after going through a war with the Dark-Lord-Who-Has-To-Be-Killed-Multiple-Times-Before-Staying-Dead and then another  _political_  war with the bloody Ministry who had eventually decided he was a danger to society and had, unsuccessfully, tried to lock him up, he had been more than happy to get out of there, especially after most of his friends had grown to be far older than him in terms of physical age.

For another, Death had been kind enough to give him the option of varying his age at will – something about life no longer having a hold over him and other technical jargon Harry hadn't really bothered listening to after getting the gist of the idea – and dying whenever he wanted to instead of just kicking the bucket the first time around like everyone else. Death had quite endeared itself to him after that little tidbit. Harry had no desire to live forever but it did make his life easier if he could choose to come back or go on whenever he died.

But none of that was terribly relevant when it came to his current career choice. In truth, Harry had merely gotten bored of the last world where he had been a barkeeper and was now trying his hand at bodyguard work. He hadn't done it before, he knew, probably more than most, how to fight, and the jobs he took on didn't clash with what little morals he still had. As far as Harry was concerned, those three things were the only requirements he needed.

He had spread the word, and it helped that people in this world prized sports – especially tennis – quite a bit, and they were used to seeing impossible things happen every other month. It also helped that Harry could use a bit of surface legilimency to see whether or not his employer would be receptive to something as otherworldly as changing his age in the blink of an eye. Most of the time, he would secretly scope out his next temporary boss and see who they had in mind before simply coming as a man of that age (it wasn't as if he advertised his less-than-normal abilities so the only real reputation he had gained was that of a highly capable bodyguard and a master of disguise), but there were a select few who couldn't care less what he could do as long as he got the job done.

So, through a series of spells he always wove before each job, Harry could come and go without leaving anything more than a name and a growing repute for his employers, not having to worry about people trying to track him down for anything other than business. This way, he could take various jobs from criminals and police and normal citizens alike – he could and would protect anyone as long as they had money and genuine need of his help.

The man sitting across from him at the moment had both.

"So how old is your son anyway?" Harry enquired.

"Twelve," The man said promptly, pushing a photograph across the table. "I know it's short notice but we're moving to Japan in a week and he'll be starting middle school there." He hesitated briefly before continuing, "By word of mouth, your résumé does say anywhere, anytime."

Harry nodded in confirmation, idly picking up the picture. "Yes, I can pack and leave anytime, and my Japanese is passable. Although going through middle school again does not sound fun."

The man barked out a laugh. "Teenage drama all over again. I'm still waiting for my brat's hormones to kick in though. Some days, I swear his true love is tennis."

Harry's snorted in amusement, giving a cursory glance at the man over the top of the photo. Seemingly easygoing and, judging by his posture, lazy, but the fact that he had managed to find Harry at all meant he was serious about his son's safety.

"I'll take the job," Harry decided, returning the picture. "You know what I charge, and your son doesn't look like the clueless type; I'm guessing the rest of the family knows already?"

His employer nodded. "Ryoma can be childish but he's smart and more mature than most kids his age in some ways. He can keep your identity secret. He's not much interested in anything outside of tennis anyway."

Harry hummed in acknowledgement as he rose to his feet. The man did the same and they shook hands. "I'll have a cover story and the proper enrollment papers ready in a few days. I'll probably change my name too; just a heads-up."

The man's eyes glinted and Harry caught a shadow of the samurai persona his employer was renowned for. "Understood. You'll keep him safe?"

Harry smiled, sharp and certain. "No one will harm him on my watch, Mr. Echizen."

 

* * *

 

**~Two Weeks Later~**

"Rise and shine, Ryo-kun!"

Ryoma grunted in annoyance and swatted at the hand tugging at his blankets. "Go 'way! And don't call me that!"

"No can do! You're going to be late for our first day of school if you don't get up now.  _Ryo-kun_."

Ryoma fumbled for his alarm clock – the one he had turned off a while ago so he could get a few more minutes of sleep – and threw it in the general direction of the way-too-cheerful-for-the-morning voice. He heard a muffled smack but he didn't need to look to know that his clock had only been caught and hadn't actually hit his target.

"Up! Your mother's almost done making breakfast!"

He groaned pathetically and finally stopped wrestling for control of his blankets. Haruto wasn't going to let up until he rose from bed.

"Alright, alright, I'm up!" He threw the dirtiest look he could muster at the grinning teen. "Now get out; I need to change."

"That's the spirit!" Haruto chirped, tossing him both his school uniform  _and_  his alarm clock before sweeping out the door.

Ryoma watched him go before heaving a long-suffering sigh. Of all the people his oyaji could get as his bodyguard, it had to be someone he couldn't ignore.

Akiyama Haruto had breezed into his life a week and a half ago and had settled himself firmly at Ryoma's side. Literally. The black-haired teen had followed him around for three days before backing off, but only far enough to not be with him twenty-four/seven.

At first, Ryoma hadn't been sure how someone his own age could protect him from rabid fans and hired thugs. It had taken him all of an hour to figure it out; Haruto could scare them all away just by being far too  _happy_.

The teen wasn't hyperactive or anything, just very,  _very_  cheerful. He had introduced himself to Ryoma at once and had been completely oblivious to the disinterested expression Ryoma had been wearing, taking his one-worded answers and grunts in stride and not minding at all that Ryoma rarely talked.

It wasn't as if Haruto was a babbling mess either, which was something Ryoma supposed he should be grateful for. The other teen didn't talk nonstop, and, morning wakeup calls aside, Haruto actually did have intelligent things to comment on. Ryoma didn't know where his dad had found him but no normal twelve-year-old could spend half the plane ride from America to Japan pointing out the personal backgrounds of every passenger onboard just by looking at them to Ryoma. He could've been guessing but Ryoma's instincts hadn't picked up a lie and he had found himself grudgingly engrossed in the psychological analysis. It had been the most interesting thing to concentrate on during the trip anyway.

Haruto also had his periods of quiet, which was what Ryoma liked best. While he had grown to tolerate Haruto's presence over the past one and a half weeks, it came as a relief the first time the other teen simply sat quietly next to him and read a book while Ryoma dozed under a tree in a nearby park after playing tennis against a wall for several hours.

The main problem Ryoma had with his new bodyguard however was probably how  _bright_  he was. Ryoma had gotten used to tuning out reporters and strangers talking around him until everything was just a grey canvas passing by. The only time that changed was when he was on the court, but Haruto had proceeded to flush out the grey in his everyday life and begin filling it with colour.

God, and now he was spouting poetry. The morning was playing havoc with his mind.

Ryoma had originally planned to spend the last week before school started playing tennis, drinking ponta, and sleeping in his bed, but Haruto had dragged him out to go sightseeing, never mind the fact that his bodyguard seemed to know exactly where everything was already. Apparently, the sightseeing had been for Ryoma's benefit.

Five days into their acquaintance, Haruto had also proven to be a prankster, though thankfully, the pranks hadn't been aimed at Ryoma. The two of them had run into a bunch of thugs on the subway who had been bragging stupidly about holding his racket (Ryoma could faintly recall a girl with pigtails who had seemed bothered by them as well) and Ryoma had proceeded to correct them. With a cocky smirk thrown in for good measure.

He had missed the tournament he had wanted to participate in because the girl gave him the wrong directions, but one of the thugs – he couldn't remember the teen's name – had challenged him. Ryoma had put him in his place in record time before heading off to the bathroom. When he had returned, his opponent and the other thugs were covered from head to toe in glitter. One look at his bodyguard's crafty smirk had told him who the culprit was. Even Ryoma had been hard-pressed not to snicker when Haruto muttered an offhand comment about Twilight.

Haruto was different and somewhat strange but Ryoma had started getting used to him – he had to since the teen would be staying with him in the foreseeable future – and had even capitulated when Haruto insisted on being called by his first name. It made sense; they were all from America in the first place, and Haruto was supposed to be a family friend who would be living with them for a while because his parents were always busy. Ryoma had wondered once or twice if the teen  _had_  parents.

At the moment though, with a lot of grumbling on his part, Ryoma dragged himself out of bed and got ready for the day. Maybe if he was lucky, Haruto wouldn't draw too much attention at school. Ryoma was all for showing off but he preferred to keep it on the court so his tennis could do the talking.

 

* * *

 

"You're too quiet. What are you planning?" Ryoma asked bluntly, peering suspiciously at Harry – or Haruto now – from under his cap.

Haruto grinned back lazily as he strolled down the hall beside his charge. It was kind of adorable that Ryoma sometimes got so paranoid when Haruto wasn't talking to him. Granted, he had been dropping hints that he would be doing something extravagant on their first day which Ryoma had probably taken the wrong way and now thought Haruto would be blowing up half their classroom or something – exactly what Haruto had been aiming for. Slightly jumpy and wary Ryoma meant lethargic and apathetic Ryoma was nowhere in sight.

However, as a bodyguard, Haruto preferred not placing them directly in the spotlight. He was going to have enough trouble keeping an eye on Ryoma when the twelve-year-old started displaying his skills on the court.

That didn't mean he couldn't mess with Ryoma's head in the meantime though.

"Absolutely nothing, Ryo-kun," Haruto assured gleefully. "Just busy admiring our new school."

Ryoma scowled at him, clearly not believing his words. "Don't call me that."

Haruto just slung an arm around the shorter teen who immediately began squirming away as they entered their classroom.

"Haruto, let go!" Ryoma ordered in vain as Haruto's gaze rapidly flickered across the room – twenty-two students, ten girls, twelve boys, male homeroom teacher, bored, tolerant of the noise around him, not new to the school, not a threat.

"Don't be so grumpy all the time, Ryoma," Haruto mock-scolded as they proceeded to take adjacent seats by the windows, Haruto closest to the glass. The voices had dropped to a muted buzz, all eyes focused on them from the moment they had come in.

They made a striking pair. Ryoma had his dark green hair, pale features, and catlike golden eyes, short enough to be cute but with enough natural charisma to be attractive. Haruto himself had his father's tousled raven-black hair, his mother's green eyes, and, he'd like to think, more than enough charm for a school filled with judgemental teenagers. A simple gold hoop earring adorned his left ear. Only he understood the tiny intricate protective runes etched into the band.

Ryoma swatted him away, laying his head down as he slumped into his seat. "...You're not joining the Tennis Club, are you?"

"Unfortunately, no," Haruto leaned back in his chair, pulling out a book to read for the next half hour. "I'll be your biggest fan though."

Ryoma muffled a groan as he buried his head in his arms, his cap pulled low to block the sunlight.

Harry quirked a smile as he flipped open his book, keeping half an eye on his surroundings. This job might be more fun than usual.

 

* * *

 

One floor up, Momoshiro Takeshi and Kaido Kaoru glared at each other as they spat insults back and forth. Neither of them could wait for the ranking matches where they would be able to see just who had improved more since last year.

On the very top floor, Oishi Shuuichirou smiled fondly at his partner as Kikumaru Eiji bounced excitedly in place and babbled about the upcoming ranking matches.

Next door, Inui Sadaharu, Kawamura Takashi, Fuji Syusuke, and Tezuka Kunimitsu settled down as the bell rang and their teacher started going through roll call.

They were expecting the tennis prodigy coming to Seigaku. They weren't expecting the enigma said prodigy had brought with him.

 


	2. Anacrusis

 

"I'm the great Horio Satoshi! I have two years of tennis experience! Tennis is going to be a breeze for me!"

"Haruto,"

Haruto glanced up absently at the low mutter. "Hmm?"

Ryoma looked mildly ticked off.

"I thought you were supposed to protect me," He said, lowering his voice even further, though for what reason, Harry didn't know. He doubted anyone would hear a bomb go off outside with the running monologue the brown-haired boy in their class was currently spewing.

Haruto's mouth twitched. "I'm afraid only in life or death situations, Ryoma."

"My ears are dying; doesn't that count?" Ryoma retorted scathingly. "I can't even sleep!"

Haruto smothered a snicker. Yes, that was probably the main problem. Ryoma could ignore just about anything and anyone unless they were: one, Haruto himself; two, a strong opponent; or three, bragging so loudly that most of the class was looking their way.

Add to that the fact that most of the girls had been whispering and giggling excitedly around them ever since lunch started and a recipe for aggravated Ryoma was created.

"Shouldn't you be used to this?" Haruto asked mildly, starting on the takoyaki Rinko had made for them both this morning.

"Fangirls and braggarts usually scream from afar," Ryoma told him dryly. "In the stands of a stadium or across the court. Either way, they're never so close that they keep me from sleeping, and they'll follow me if I try to leave. So," A haughty look that demanded obedience. "Do your job and get me out of here."

Haruto finally put his finished bento away and allowed a devious smirk to surface on his face. It was entertaining to watch the slightly pensive expression Ryoma swiftly gained.

"As you wish, my lord," Haruto bowed mockingly as he stood up, and then, while most were still distracted by the unibrow kid's spiel, he threw out a very mild Notice-Me-Not charm around them, followed by a watered down Enlargement charm on the open window, and before Ryoma could do more than widen his eyes in alarm and hastily grab his tennis bag – probably an instinctual movement, Haruto had grabbed him and their schoolbags and promptly leapt outside, dragging Ryoma along as they cleared the bushes below and left behind a crowd of gaping students.

"You're crazy," Ryoma deadpanned five minutes later under a cherry blossom tree. "Figures Oyaji would pick a crazy bodyguard for me."

"You did say you wanted to get out of there," Haruto commented flippantly as he pulled out the book he had been reading earlier.

"I would've preferred the door," Ryoma huffed, but dropped the issue with his usual indifferent ease. Haruto would have to work harder to get a rise out of him.

He waited until Ryoma had drifted off into dreamland before glancing back in the direction they had come.

Humans. Most never really questioned circumstances that were subtle but still too far out of the ordinary. He and Ryoma were both relatively small and slim so they would chalk it up to the window being just big enough for them to fit through. The students' slow reactions to their escape would also be explained away by the fact that he and Ryoma were simply very fast.

With a sigh, Haruto returned to his book. He only had fifteen more minutes to read before they would have to return to class.

 

* * *

 

Syusuke paused mid-step when he caught a glimpse of two airborne figures out of the corner of his eye. His eyebrows shot up as he watched two students launch themselves out of one of the first-floor classroom windows. Correction: one of them launched himself out the window; the other was being dragged along.

The second teen had a tennis bag slung over one shoulder – a professional's bag and bulky enough to contain at least three rackets.

The first teen was empty-handed save for two schoolbags but was laughing without restraint as if he and he alone were enjoying the world's greatest joke.

Syusuke stalled long enough for the two to disappear from sight before closing unknowingly-opened eyes again and continuing on his way.

He smiled. Well, this year just might prove to be even more interesting than he had originally believed.

 

* * *

 

The Window Incident, as their classmates had coined it, had apparently done nothing but elevate them in the eyes of their peers. Apparently, jumping through windows was classified as cool and Haruto now had even more girls giggling and blushing and trying to talk to him.

Unfortunately, just as many of them surrounded Ryoma, who, after his defeat of some second-year tennis club member a week ago, had become quite popular as well.

Luckily, Ryoma was used to ignoring fans and Haruto had long since learned to smile and bear it.

Rumours about Ryoma having participated in four tournaments and won circulated the school. The Super Freshman Prodigy was already starting to catch on.

Rumours about who Haruto was – another tennis prodigy, Ryoma's adopted brother, family friend's problem child (jumping out of windows was cool but didn't make you the poster boy for model student), etcetera – spread like wildfire as well.

Ah, middle school drama at its best.

The bell rang to signal the end of the day and Haruto idly reached out and nudged Ryoma awake.

"School's over," Haruto told him as Ryoma stifled a yawn. "Ranking matches start today. You don't want to be late."

Ryoma grunted and sluggishly dragged himself upright. Haruto rolled his eyes and then reached out and snatched the boy's cap.

Golden eyes lost what sleep they had held before. "Oi, give that back!"

Haruto waved the headwear tantalizingly out of Ryoma's grasp as he headed for the door, not waiting for his charge to finish packing up.

"Excuse me, ladies," Haruto said courteously, chuckling inwardly when half the females in the class flushed bright red. Pureblood upbringing meant that most children were fluent in aristocratic behaviour by the time they were ten and while Haruto had picked up the upper-class decorum late, he saw no reason to drop it now, even if he was in another world.

Where before they had hastily crammed their belongings away and converged at the door so they could exchange a few words with him, the girls now quickly parted, giving him a clear path to the door. With a last smile at all of them, Haruto darted away.

"Haruto, give that back!" Ryoma growled from somewhere behind him as Haruto picked up his pace and headed for the tennis courts.

Haruto ducked into the area where the score registry table for the ranking matches had been set up and the list of club members who would be facing each other had been posted. Non-club members were allowed here as well so long as they didn't get in the way, and Haruto quickly weaved around the various students so that he could get a glimpse of who Ryoma would be facing.

"You are infuriating!" Ryoma hissed when he finally caught up and snatched his cap back.

Haruto didn't even bother pretending to be repentant. Ryoma was far too aloof off the court for his tastes; if he had to tease the boy to get a somewhat energetic reaction then so be it.

"Yoshimura Shun," Haruto said instead, pointing at the list. "Second year. He's your first opponent."

Ryoma blew out a frustrated breath before visibly calming down and scowling at Haruto again. "You didn't have to steal my hat to get me here."

"You were moving too slowly," Haruto countered cheerfully.

"My match doesn't start for another twenty minutes," Ryoma pointed out wryly. "I'm early."

"To be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late, and to be late," Haruto grinned humorously at the shorter teen. "Is absolutely unacceptable. So, you're on time."

Ryoma scoffed and adjusted his cap. "Which dead guy did you quote that from?"

"A variation of something in Sleeping With Strangers by Eric Dickey," Haruto held out a hand and Ryoma obligingly handed him his coat and schoolbag. "And for your information, he's still alive and kicking."

"Well either way, he obviously has no idea what he's talking about," Ryoma dismissed grumpily.

Haruto just laughed and pushed him in the direction of the changing rooms. "Go get changed. Good luck today."

The cocky smirk Haruto had gotten used to seeing from Ryoma whenever tennis came into the equation surfaced on the teen's face. "I don't need luck. I'm just that good."

Haruto smiled in amusement before turning and heading for the tree he usually sat under whenever Ryoma had practice. He still wasn't particularly fascinated with tennis like pretty much everyone else here which was why he always brought a book along. Today, however, might prove interesting. At the very least, he wanted to know just how good the Seigaku regulars were.

 

* * *

 

"Ne, Fujiko, is that him again?" Eiji tugged on his fellow regular's sleeve, not taking his eyes off the young student sitting under a nearby tree. He had seen the first-year accompany their soon-to-be first-year regular every practice session, waiting nearby until they were finished before the two would leave together.

To Eiji, it seemed kind of lonely that the younger teen never had anyone else to spend time with. He had heard the rumours of course; who hadn't? Akiyama Haruto, along with Echizen Ryoma, were the two most popular students amongst the first-years, even after a mere seven days since school began. The latter for his looks, intelligence, and, of course, his tennis, and the former for all of those except the last. Akiyama was certainly more outgoing than Ochibi – the nickname Eiji was going to drop on him as soon as he was officially one of theirs – and, for all intents and purposes, seemed like complete opposites in terms of personality, but they clicked. Ochibi definitely never allowed any of the other first-year club members anywhere near his person. Akiyama was probably the only one who could sling a friendly arm around Ochibi and tease him without getting a tennis ball to the face.

If the rumours were to be believed, the two of them had already been friends before moving here from America, so maybe that was why they were so close. Then again, if the rumours were to be believed, apparently, Akiyama had leapt out of a  _third_ -floor window and flown away across school grounds, so Eiji wasn't going to put too much stock in the school gossip.

"Yes, looks like it," Fuji nodded. "It's not that much of a surprise. Echizen will be playing for a regular spot today. Akiyama would want to see the outcome."

Eiji hummed thoughtfully, rocking back on his heels before hopping off the chair he had been perched on. "Yosh, I'm gonna go talk to him!"

Fuji didn't so much as bat an eye, waving him off as he turned to head to the court he would be playing in next. "Don't forget that your next match is in fifteen minutes."

Eiji called back an acknowledgement before bounding towards the lone figure seated near the courts. "Hey, Ochibi number two!"

The freshman didn't seem surprised to see Eiji; amused, but not surprised, as most were when he ambushed them.

"'Ochibi number two'?" Akiyama repeated with some bemusement. There was barely any trace of an accent in his Japanese.

"Yup, yup!" Eiji flopped down next to the shorter teen. "Echizen is Ochibi, and you're only a little taller than he is."

An amused smile tilted the boy's lips as he set his book down. "Not very imaginative, Kikumaru-senpai."

Eiji tilted his head in confusion. "How do you know my name?"

Akiyama's smiled turned wry. "I  _have_  been watching your practices for the past week, not to mention I live with Ryoma. He's told me who the regulars are."

Eiji brightened again. "Oh, well then, you can just call me Eiji. My surname's too long."

Akiyama shrugged easily. "Eiji-senpai then. I don't care what you call me."

Eiji examined him closely. Akiyama was short, yes, but he couldn't be described as cute, like Ochibi. There was simply something more... mature in his gestures and expressions, despite the sociable nature he portrayed.

"I'll call you Haru for now," He decided, pouting a little. "I'll give you a nickname when I think of one."

Haru quirked a smile and acquiesced readily. Really nothing at all like Ochibi; Eiji knew the tennis prodigy would scowl at his nickname.

"So you live with Ochibi?" Eiji enquired, peering curiously at Haru.

"Mm," Haru nodded. "We knew each other back in America and his family's taken me in for a while so I could go to school here with Ryoma."

"You two must be close," Eiji glanced down at the courts where Ochibi was currently playing. "Is that why you always wait for him to finish practice before going home?"

Haru made a vague agreeing sound at the back of his throat. "Partly, but it isn't as if I have anyone else I could hang out with."

"But that's what school's for!" Eiji protested. "You can make other friends!"

"And here I thought school was for learning," Haru said dryly, and Eiji grinned. "But I'm fine with just Ryoma. He can be a handful all on his own."

Eiji had to laugh at that. Ochibi always did wear either a scowl or a look of disinterest, and his confidence on the court – however appropriate – faintly reminded him of Hyotei's captain. Not that it was a bad thing; Eiji certainly liked Ochibi more than Atobe.

"Ne, Eiji-senpai," Eiji looked questioningly at the mischievous smirk on the freshman's face. "Isn't your next match in two minutes?"

Eiji blinked once, twice, and then leapt up with a yelp and hightailed back towards the tennis courts.

"You should've told me sooner, Haru!" He hollered back but didn't bother hiding the good-natured grin on his face when he heard laughter trailing after him as he flipped over a bench in his way.

Haru might not play tennis but he seemed like a good guy overall, and fun to talk with. Maybe Eiji could wrangle Tezuka into agreeing to bring Haru along whenever the regulars went for meals or tournaments together. He didn't want Haru being left behind when Ochibi came with them.

 

* * *

 

Haruto couldn't help frowning at the spectators gathering around the court Ryoma was playing on. He wasn't concerned about the students, even though half of them had stars in their eyes as they watched the first-year prodigy. No, he was more apprehensive about the outsiders that had been allowed into the school to watch. More specifically, he was watching the reporters.

As a general rule, Haruto despised reporters. They were nosy and demanding and didn't have any compunction about invading a person's privacy. Oh, there were the occasional honest ones, but they were far and few in-between.

It was even worse here. Seigaku didn't seem to have any policies about keeping reporters and journalists off school property. They just weren't allowed inside the school building without good reason and permission from the school board. The tennis courts, basketball courts, pool, fields, and gyms were all fair game.

So now Haruto had to pretend to be the epitome of tranquility while keeping an eye on eight – make that nine; some baldy just appeared with a camera – different members of the press from various newspapers and magazines all over Tokyo.

Damn, what exactly was the point of moving to Japan if people could simply relate Echizen Ryoma to Echizen Nanjiroh or Echizen Rinko, or heck, Echizen Ryoga, just by picking up a newspaper?

Then again, that was what Haruto was here for. Nanjiroh wanted Ryoma to continue playing tennis as much as he wanted, which would indubitably attract attention. Haruto's job was to fend off stalkers and kidnappers alike when – not if – they came.

It didn't help that Ryoma was at his best at the moment, facing off against Kaido Kaoru with all the arrogance a successful twelve-year-old prodigy with four tournaments to his name could muster. The second-year was good, but Ryoma was better, and the first-year knew it.

Haruto's eyes narrowed when he saw one of the reporters – brown hair, brown eyes, unremarkable at first glance – stiffen in dawning realization as he watched Ryoma play. A red-haired woman stood next to him holding a camera and snapping photos of the game.

Well, that just wouldn't do.

Snapping his book shut and putting it away, Haruto gathered up his and Ryoma's belongings and headed down to the courts. There were, thankfully, only two cameras going off around Ryoma, pictures that would go to two different media sources, and as Haruto passed by each of them, he sent a wave of magic into the devices. The first roll of film would come out blurred beyond recognition; the film that the woman was working on would become entangled beyond repair inside the camera.

Unfortunately, he couldn't stop them from writing what they wanted, but hopefully, without a face to the name, anyone wanting to come after Ryoma would have to take some time to do their research first.

Haruto finally came to a stop beside the non-descript journalist. One fleeting glance at the logo on the man's bag told Haruto that he worked for Monthly Pro Tennis, a rather popular magazine in Tokyo.

"Akiyama!" Haruto glanced again to the far right and stomped down the desire to sneer at the loud bag of wind.

 _He's only a kid,_  Haruto reminded himself.  _Be an adult; overlook it._

"So you've come to watch too!" Horio said loudly as the reporter, photographer, and those other two boys Haruto recognized as new club members, as well as Ryoma's self-proclaimed number one fan – which was all kinds of creepy, and the shy girl with pigtails whom he and Ryoma had bumped into before school had started. All four were in his class.

"Are you interested in tennis as well?" The man interjected.

Haruto took in the kind expression. Genuine smile, honest eyes; just his luck – a good man.

"Akiyama doesn't know a thing about tennis," Horio announced before Haruto could respond. "He doesn't have any experience at all."

The woman was looking a little annoyed but the man only cast a swift look over at the brown-haired freshman before his gaze returned to Haruto, patiently waiting for his reply.

Just great; Haruto might actually like this guy. It was one thing to sabotage reporters who got on his nerves; it was quite another dealing with those he respected.

"I'm afraid not," Haruto said out loud. "I know the rules and such but I'm only here to watch Ryoma play."

"Oh, are you two friends?" The woman jumped in. An extrovert, talkative, loved gossip as much as the next person, and, judging by the fact that only the reporter turned sharply towards the courts when Ryoma returned another terrific serve, new to sports.

"We came to Japan together," Haruto revealed. "I'm living with his family while I attend school here."

Haruto was very good at small talk and he carried on well enough with the two adults – Inoue Mamoru and Shiba Saori – as they chatted amicably about the match before them. Of course, there were also repeated interruptions from both Horio and the enthusiastic girl – Osakada Tomoka.

Admittedly, as fangirls went, the girl could've been a lot worse. She was assertive and bossy, but Haruto had also seen the protective stance she always took when Horio inadvertently made fun of Sakuno. Haruto wished she would talk less but at least he could stand her.

On the other hand, Horio was a nightmare, reminding them all of his two years of tennis experience every few minutes until Haruto excused himself. The game was winding to a close anyway. Kaido's Snake Shot was good, but the second-year obviously hadn't accounted for Ryoma's ability to steal his move.

"Akiyama-kun,"

Haruto turned to find that Inoue had followed him a short distance away. "Yes?"

He already knew the question the reporter wanted to ask before he asked it. "Is Echizen Ryoma related to Echizen Nanjiroh by any chance?" The man paused but hurried on before Haruto could say anything. "This is off the record of course. I understand that some celebrities want their privacy, especially retired ones, but I've always been a big fan of Echizen Nanjiroh and, well, it would be a dream come true if I could play a match against him."

Haruto brushed the man's mind with a touch of legilimency and found nothing but truth there. He stayed silent for a long moment. If he refused to say anything, Inoue would probably try to find out for himself, which might lead to others getting a hint as to Nanjiroh's whereabouts. It would probably be best if Haruto simply gave this man the Echizen household's address now.

"You're not to tell anyone," Haruto warned after reciting the shrine's location. "Nanjiroh-san won't be pleased if you start passing out their personal information. He wants his son to go through school without having to worry about outsiders coming to the house."

 _More like I won't be pleased_ , Haruto amended mentally.

"Of course," Inoue promised fervently. "I won't breathe a word about their relation to anyone."

Haruto nodded sharply and smiled genially at the man as he turned away. "Come by tomorrow then. I'll give Nanjiroh-san a heads-up."

As the reporter babbled another thank-you before they parted ways, Haruto made a mental note to up security around the shrine just in case. While he was certain Inoue would be as good as his word, there was no telling if other people might find out sooner or later.

 


	3. Scherzo

 

It had been a little over three weeks since Haruto had started middle school and he was so damn bored it wasn't even funny anymore. He got an occasional kick out of taunting the teachers by staring out the window or sleeping and then correctly answering any questions they fired at him but Ryoma did the same and it had lost its incentive a while back.

So, back to the matter at hand – Haruto was bored, so bored that he was actually looking forward to the first person thick enough to come after Ryoma. The stalker/kidnapper wasn't going to know what hit them.

But that didn't change the fact that there was nobody coming after Ryoma  _now_ , which made all the difference.

"I'm booored, Ryo-kun," Haruto whined, trailing after the tennis prodigy as they made their way towards the tennis courts for practice. "Entertain me."

Ryoma snorted, adjusting his cap and shielding his eyes from the sunlight. "No. Stop being a child."

Haruto smiled winningly at a first-year brunette and snickered inwardly when she turned bright red before bounding forward to keep pace with Ryoma. "But you're a child yourself, Ryo-kun. And I've got nothing to do while you're swinging a racket around."

"It's called practice," Ryoma said, a touch of exasperation entering his voice. "And go read a book or something. It's not like I can do anything to alleviate your boredom while I'm 'swinging a racket around'."

Haruto grinned. Ryoma was definitely more open than he had been when they had first met. Not by much and not all the time but Haruto knew he could wear anyone down eventually.

"Why don't you just join a club?" Ryoma continued, glancing sidelong at him. "There's still some clubs doing signup, right?"

Haruto shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets as they rounded a corner. "Not interested. Besides, I have to stick with you."

He paused, gaze drawn to a group of three up ahead. Ryoma followed his line of sight and they both watched as two second-year tennis club members leered at a girl holding a tennis racket to her chest.

Haruto tilted his head. Wasn't that the tennis coach's granddaughter, Ryuuzaki Sakuno? Why was the girl always getting into trouble?

They watched as the two older teens taunted her about her lack of skill in tennis and a few crude remarks about her looks. By the time they scooted off for practice, Ryuuzaki seemed to be near tears.

Haruto's lips slowly curled into a smirk. He ignored the slightly alarmed expression Ryoma was aiming at him.

"Ah," Haruto mused. "That I can work with."

 

* * *

 

Ryoma froze mid-yawn as he dragged himself to school for morning practice. Yawn forgotten, he closed his mouth and stared, dumbfounded, at the two second-years – from yesterday, he remembered – standing in front of Tezuka in nothing but teddy-bear-patterned boxers, their hair dyed an eye-watering shade of hot pink and their skin dyed green. Their captain didn't look at all pleased as he listened to their stammered excuses with crossed arms and a foreboding shadow cast over his features.

He was only distantly aware of Haruto coming to stand beside him.

"What did you do?" Ryoma asked, watching the two visibly embarrassed teens with fascination, torn between amusement and horror.

"I'm hurt, Ryo-kun," Haruto smirked wickedly at him. "Why would you automatically accuse little old me?"

Ryoma gave him a deadpan look. "Who  _else_  would do this? And I was with you yesterday when you started plotting."

Haruto just grinned as they continued down the hill towards the courts. "Well, they were harassing Ryuuzaki-chan. What kind of a gentleman would I be if I simply let that go?"

Ryoma shook his head. " _How_  did you do this?"

Haruto shot him an enigmatic smile. "Let's just say two ignorant second-years decided to head to school a bit early for a hot shower to wake themselves up for practice and came out of said showers looking like that with their clothes nowhere in sight. Luckily, they found two pairs of boxers kindly laid out for them instead."

Ryoma couldn't help the snicker that slipped past his guard as he glanced again at the two tennis players being reamed out by Tezuka. "Remind me not to get on your bad side."

Haruto looked close to cackling, but Tezuka, sending the second-years off with a murderous stare – because  _glare_  was simply beneath him, as Ryoma had eventually figured out – and a promise of a tear-inducing number of laps when they looked presentable again, glanced at them and nodded a stoic good morning that Ryoma returned with his patented expression of disinterest.

On the other hand, Haruto waved cheerfully at the third-year and chirped back a greeting. The entire Tennis Club knew, more or less, that Ryoma came as a package deal, and they were all used to seeing Haruto hanging around for the duration of practice. He was pretty much known as 'the kid who hangs around the Tennis Club'. Yeah, not very imaginative, but Ryoma couldn't care less so long as it didn't have anything to do with him.

"Morning, Tezuka-senpai!" Haruto said cheerfully before giving Ryoma – who had resigned himself to them a few weeks back – a hug that made him squirm.

"See you after practice, Ryo-kun," Haruto said as he let go.

Ryoma huffed, hefting his tennis bag. "Why do I put up with you again?"

Haruto positively beamed. "For my charming personality and well-developed sense of humour, of course!"

As Haruto pranced away to his usual spot under the cherry blossom tree, Ryoma would swear he saw Tezuka's mouth twitch.

 

* * *

 

"Ochibi!" Eiji cried out happily and glomped their youngest teammate as he approached. "Good morning!"

Ochibi instantly began to struggle against his hug but Eiji didn't let him go until the boy hacked out a greeting in return.

"Good morning, Echizen," Fujiko said from beside Eiji and Echizen nodded dully.

"Ne, Ochibi, did you see what happened to those two second-years?" Eiji continued as they started their stretches.

An odd smirk made its way onto Ochibi's face. "They were bothering Ryuuzaki yesterday."

"Oh?" Fujiko turned in their direction as Eiji's eyes widened. "Did you have anything to do with that?"

Echizen scoffed. "Of course not, senpai. I don't like doing anything in the morning."

"But you know who it was!" Eiji said excitedly. "How did they do it? Not even Fujiko knows."

Ochibi just shrugged but his eyes strayed to the left and both Eiji and Fuji followed it.

"Akiyama did?" Fujiko didn't look too surprised. "He likes pranks then?"

Reluctant but genuine amusement glowed in Ochibi's eyes and Eiji leaned forward in anticipation.

"My old man wouldn't stop looking at pictures of women so Haruto replaced them all with health magazines and then built a bonfire out back."

Eiji sweatdropped. He could take a good guess as to where the original magazines went. "And no one said anything about the... bonfire?"

Ochibi smirked. "We roasted marshmallows around it. Haruto's become Kaa-san's favourite and Oyaji's least favourite."

Eiji didn't know if he should be more awed by the fact that Haru had managed to prank two people through mysterious means that even Fujiko couldn't figure out or that Ochibi had talked more in the last two minutes than in the past three weeks.

"Oi, Echizen!"

They all turned and Eiji grinned at the normal sight of Momo scampering onto the court and trying to avoid eye-contact with Tezuka.

"You never wait for me!" Momo rushed up, scowling as he tried to tie his shoelace and start his warm-up at the same time.

Ochibi had become apathetic again. "Haruto likes to arrive at school early."

"Then tell Akiyama to wait a bit!" Momo complained, instinctively looking over at the first-year sitting under the cherry blossom tree. "I don't mind his company either. You haven't even introduced us!"

Eiji perked up. "Yeah, that's right! Ochibi, let's all eat lunch together today! We'll gather on the roof, okay? All the regulars plus Haru."

Before Ochibi could say no, Tezuka's voice cut across the court. "Fuji, you'll play against Kaidou today. Eiji, you're against Oishi. Echizen, you'll play against Kawamura. Momo, twenty laps for tardiness."

Eiji glanced sympathetically at Momo who heaved a sigh before doing as he was told. Well, at least Ochibi couldn't refuse.

 

* * *

 

"Eiji, did Echizen actually  _say_  he was going to join us for lunch?" Shuuichirou asked tentatively as they waited for their last member and his plus one.

His partner sulked. "Well, no, but he didn't say he wasn't going to."

Shuuichirou sighed and looked around. Tezuka and Fuji were both reading, Kawamura going over some homework, Inui was writing in his notebook, and Kaidou and Momo, who had been surprised to have a lunch invitation extended to them as well but had readily accepted, were arguing, as usual.

"Maybe we should just start eating then," Kawamura suggested, glancing up. "It's been fifteen minutes."

"No, they'll come!" Eiji insisted. "I asked Haru too, after practice, and he promised he'd get Ochibi here!"

Even Tezuka looked up from his book at this but it was Fuji who spoke. "Saa, then maybe we can wait a bit longer."

Shuuichirou looked curiously at their resident genius. "Have you spoken to Akiyama?"

Fuji shook his head. "No, but I've noticed that he has a certain knack for getting Echizen to do whatever he wants."

Eiji nodded in agreement but before anyone else could say anything, muffled voices reached their ears and they all turned to stare at the door as it flew open.

"I never agreed to this!" Echizen was saying, a petulant frown on his face as he struggled in Akiyama's grip.

"But I did," Akiyama countered amicably. "And I don't like breaking my promises so stop complaining. I'll buy you a Ponta. And a catnip for Karupin."

"You can't  _bribe_  me," Echizen grumbled but the prodigy was fast receding back to his more reticent persona again.

"Hi, senpai-tachi!" Akiyama greeted, easily manhandling Echizen over to them. "Sorry we're late. Ryo-kun here tried to do a runner. Fortunately, some of the girls in our class helped me out."

"They're fangirls," Echizen growled, bristling in a way Shuuichirou had never seen before. Their youngest regular was  _never_  this open. "I can't believe you told them to attack me!"

"I told them to help me out by delaying you," Akiyama corrected mildly as they sat down in the open spot between Momo and Fuji. "There's a difference."

Echizen glared. "I don't know how you do it, but you've got every one of them wrapped around your finger. They'd go jump off Mount Fuji if you told them to."

Akiyama managed to give a rather good rendition of bafflement. "Why in the world would I tell them to jump off Mount Fuji?"

Echizen threw his hands in the air in clear frustration, and then pulled up short when he finally registered just where he was. His cheeks tinged the faintest shade of pink and he automatically reached for his cap and pulled it down.

Shuuichirou chuckled. This was the first time he had seen Echizen actually interact with someone. The two of them must be good friends.

"Oi, Akiyama, mind waiting for me to catch up in the morning?" Momo said once they had all started eating. "I go by your place when I head to school. I need someone to be late to practice with me."

Tezuka arched an eyebrow at this, stern eyes making Momo cringe.

"What I mean is," Momo hastily backpedalled. "It'd be nice to arrive at practice together."

"Well, I don't mind," Akiyama said easily. "It's not like I'm going to be late either way. Ryo-kun?"

"Don't call me that," Echizen scowled at Akiyama before shrugging. "I don't care either. But I'm not waiting longer than ten minutes."

"Great!" Momo cheered. "Thanks, Echizen."

"Haru," Eiji piped up next, all but bouncing on the spot. "How did you prank those two second-years?"

A startled silence ensued before Shuuichirou sighed, glancing cautiously at the slight frown on Tezuka's face. Maybe if Akiyama was repentant about it...

"Oh, that was easy," Akiyama waved his chopsticks in the air, not at all repentant. "Did you know the two showers at the end in the boys' change room runs on a different, older pipeline? I just poured dye into the pipe and they did the rest themselves. Oh, I suppose I should return their clothes sometime soon."

Eiji laughed outright and Fuji smiled as Inui's glasses flashed and the teen wrote something in his notebook. The others, sans Tezuka, grinned as well and Shuuichirou himself was hard-pressed not to look amused.

"How did you separate the two dyes?" Inui spoke up, peering at Akiyama.

A secretive smile. "Trade secret, senpai. Maybe I'll tell you one day."

Inui raised an eyebrow but said nothing more, flipping a page in his notebook. Shuuichirou wondered if the data specialist had dedicated an entire section for Akiyama even though the first-year didn't play tennis at all.

"But why did you do it?" Kawamura enquired with some bemusement. "They were really embarrassed."

"They were harassing Ryuuzaki-chan yesterday, insulting her and everything," Akiyama explained, and then tacked on, "And I was bored."

Shuuichirou sweatdropped. He could've done without hearing the last part.

"I would appreciate it if your pranks did not cut into practice time."

Huh. That was rather lenient for Tezuka's usual reprimands.

Akiyama blinked back at the captain and Shuuichirou noted that the first-year seemed to be one of the few who could look Tezuka in the eye without flinching.

"Mm, sure," Akiyama agreed with easy acquiescence. "Next time, I'll do it after practice."

Shuuichirou was fairly certain that wasn't what Tezuka meant but his long-time friend didn't push the issue, only nodding back before focusing on his lunch again.

"So hey, you don't play tennis at all?" Momo asked through a mouthful of rice.

Akiyama shook his head. "I'm not that interested in tennis."

Momo looked scandalized and Kaidou hissed. Almost immediately, Akiyama choked on the water he had just taken a sip of, coughing raggedly as he recovered. Shuuichirou thought he heard a laugh mixed in somewhere but dismissed it.

"How can someone not like tennis?" Momo mumbled. "Well, what sports do you like then?"

"None of them, really," Akiyama said once he had straightened up again. "I know some kendo though, if that counts. Also fencing, karate, aikido, kung fu..."

He trailed off, noticing the wide eyes staring at him. Shuuichirou had certainly forgotten his lunch in favour of trying to figure out just how dangerous the deceptively slim figure in front of him could be.

Only Echizen didn't look surprised. Interested, but not as stunned as the rest of them.

"So you, er, like to fight?" Momo asked awkwardly, only to get sneered at by Kaidou.

"Fshuuu, just because he knows martial arts doesn't mean he likes fighting, moron."

Akiyama coughed again but Shuuichirou was too busy thinking of ways to do damage control before Momo got riled up and things got out of hand to pay much attention to it.

"I don't  _like_  fighting per se," Akiyama cut in, killing the argument before it could get off the ground, much to Shuuichirou's relief. "But I can. Sparring is quite relaxing too."

"Saa, we should introduce you to Sanada sometime," Fuji spoke up. "He does kendo too."

"Sanada?" Something too quick for Shuuichirou to interpret flashed through Akiyama's eyes. "Let me guess; he's a tennis player too?"

Fuji's smile took on a tinge of amusement. "Yes, it does seem like all our acquaintances are tennis players, doesn't it?"

Akiyama grinned. "That's okay. Tennis players here seem to have a wide variety of personalities."

They all glanced up when the warning bell rang.

"Back to class," Akiyama looked utterly mournful as they packed up.

Shuuichirou smiled, amused. "Bored of school already, Akiyama?"

Akiyama nodded vigorously. "It's boring, and Ryo-kun doesn't even have the decency to play hangman with me."

This startled a laugh from both Eiji and Momo as they all trooped back into the school. Echizen only pinned Akiyama with a scowl. Apparently, the nickname wasn't appreciated.

 

* * *

 

Momo wasn't quite sure what to make of the sight that greeted him the next morning when he hurried to meet Echizen and Akiyama at their house.

"What... am I supposed to do with this?" Momo asked, trying not to get too freaked out by the sheet-covered cage Akiyama had thrust into his hands.

"Take it to school, of course," Akiyama told him nonchalantly as if handing people cages was perfectly normal. "You have a bike and Ryoma and I can only carry one cage each."

Momo stared wide-eyed as Echizen stalked out, his tennis bag slung over one shoulder, his schoolbag in one hand, and a cage of his own in the other. He switched his gaze back to his own cage and lifted the cover. Three chickens blinked back at him and one of them squawked when he almost dropped the whole thing.

"Let me rephrase my question," Momo said faintly. " _Why_  am I carrying  _chickens_  to school?"

Akiyama smirked at him. "It's for a prank. Don't worry; it won't interfere with tennis practice again."

"That's not what I'm worried about!" Momo finally burst out. He rounded on his bleary-eyed teammate. "Echizen! I never took you for the type to play pranks. I thought that was just Akiyama!"

Echizen glared at him. "Don't place me in the same category as this lunatic. Haruto wouldn't leave me alone until I agreed. Besides, I'm just helping him carry this to school. It's out of my hands after that."

"But still-!" Momo spluttered, suddenly finding himself securing the cage of chickens onto the back of his bike and walking alongside the two first-years.

"What Ryoma meant to say is that he doesn't really mind helping out this time because this prank is for revenge," Akiyama explained cheerfully as he hefted his own cage. "Our teachers banded together and gave us detention because we weren't 'paying attention and respecting their lessons'. I don't particularly mind but Ryo-kun here got all prickly because he ended up being late for practice and had to run thirty laps."

Echizen growled wordlessly at Akiyama but didn't say anything else. Momo sweatdropped. He had wondered why Echizen had been late yesterday. If nothing else, Akiyama usually got the prodigy to practice on time.

"So these chickens are for pranking the teachers then?" Momo ventured tentatively. He didn't know whether he should feel sorry for the teachers or the chickens.

"Yup!" Akiyama chirped. Momo shivered at the scheming glint in his eyes. He wondered if Fuji had ever been like this when the genius was younger. "Don't worry; I won't get either of you in trouble. Besides, I never get caught."

Momo sighed and resigned himself to being the accomplice. If he was honest with himself, he was actually looking forward to seeing what Akiyama was cooking up.

 

* * *

 

"Psst, Oishi," Eiji whispered, poking his partner's back with his pencil.

Oishi glanced back. "What is it?"

Eiji jabbed a finger in the direction of the classroom doorway. "Is that a chicken?"

Oishi looked frozen for a moment before slowly turning to look. Eiji almost snickered out loud at the gobsmacked expression on his partner's face but before either of them could say anything more, one of the girls in their class shot up, a half-shriek at her lips.

"Sensei! There's a chicken in here!"

The statement was so random that their teacher, marking papers at his desk, only frowned sternly at the girl as if reprimanding her for cracking some kind of joke in class.

"No really, sensei," Another student spoke up abruptly. "There's a chicken right there!"

All eyes were now on the white-feathered animal meandering calmly around the front of the classroom. The teacher's mouth had dropped open.

Eiji smothered his giggles and thought back to Momo who had been somewhat distracted this morning, always glancing at Akiyama.

Now he knew why.

In front of him, Oishi groaned quietly. "Please tell me that chicken just happened to wander into the school and doesn't, in fact, have anything to do with Akiyama."

Eiji grinned, hopping up onto his desk. "I don't think so, unless Japanese livestock all have letters painted on them."

Oishi's head shot up again and Eiji nodded at the chicken. Sure enough, there was a 'G' painted on its side in black.

Oishi groaned again as the teacher headed up to the front of the class and tried to herd the animal back outside.

And just like that, pandemonium broke out.

The chicken squawked loudly and sprang into the air, landing precariously on the teacher's head. The teacher yelped and stumbled back, arms flailing as feathers flew and students shouted. The halls flooded with students and more yelling and squawking, and Eiji didn't need to be a genius to realize that there were more chickens loose around the school.

"Yay!" Eiji made a victory sign as he started packing his books away. "I'm guessing no more school today! Let's go, Oishi!"

Oishi heaved a sigh but started packing up as well. Eiji just grinned knowingly when he caught the helpless smile of amusement playing on his partner's face.

 

* * *

 

"Hmm, there seems to be a chicken in the classroom. There is an eighty-three percent chance that this has something to do with Akiyama."

Kunimitsu's left eye twitched when he caught what Inui was muttering under his breath. For a second, he wanted to simply keep his head down and  _not_  look up. If he didn't see anything, then he wouldn't know anything. What he didn't know wouldn't go on to give him migraines.

Another second passed and his curiosity won out. Apprehensively, he looked up.

And instantly wished he hadn't because there  _was_  a chicken in the classroom. A white chicken to be exact, with the English letter 'S' painted on its side.

Kunimitsu only had time to sigh before their sensei caught sight of the chicken and screeched, leaping onto her chair. Well, it seemed their history teacher was afraid of chickens.

"Saa, at least Akiyama kept it out of tennis practice this time," Fuji mused from behind him.

"He might get into trouble for this," Kawamura said from the right, looking worried.

Kunimitsu just shook his head. Even though he didn't know the boy very well, Akiyama didn't strike him as the careless type. The first-year would probably cover his tracks.

With a sigh, he started gathering up his papers. Judging by the chaos in the classroom as the chicken expertly evaded capture from half the class, school was most likely over for the day.

And he couldn't even reprimand Akiyama for this. The first-year wasn't one of his team members.

Kunimitsu smoothly ducked a butterfly net and an explosion of feathers as he headed for the door, Inui, Kawamura, and Fuji trailing after him. Well, at least this freed up time for some extra practice.

He eyed the teacher now flapping her hands and holding her chair out in front of her. He had never liked her; she had the tendency to pick on students even when they clearly didn't know the answer.

As she yelped and backed away from the out-of-control animal fluttering around the room, Kunimitsu turned away and smothered a smile.

 

* * *

 

"Oh no."

Kaoru glanced up from the equation he had been solving, instinctively frowning at his fellow regular. He and Momoshiro would never get along; it was a fact of life, but that didn't mean he wasn't curious about why the other second-year looked torn between laughing and paling in dread.

Kaoru arched an eyebrow and looked around. He stilled when his ears picked up quiet clucking from the classroom doorway. Straightening, he did a double-take when he caught a glimpse of a  _chicken_  at the door.

Akiyama. And...

Kaoru shot a suspicious glance at Momoshiro. The broom-head had seemed distracted this morning. Actually, so had Echizen, except he had been much more subtle about it.

He looked again at the animal. Was that a 'U' painted on its side?

"Fshuuu," He leaned over to Momoshiro, glowering dangerously. "What have you done, idiot?"

The second-year scowled right back. "I haven't done anything, Viper. I just helped bring the chickens to school."

Kaoru couldn't understand this. Most of the time, he couldn't understand how Momoshiro could be so stupid anyway. " _Why_  would you do something like that?"

The broom-head rolled his eyes. "Like I had a choice. I met Echizen and Akiyama in front of their house today and had a cage of chickens pushed into my hands before I could blink. We were halfway to school by the time I understood what was going on."

Kaoru snorted. Yeah, he could picture that.

A shout interrupted their impromptu conversation and the classroom rapidly descended into disorder as the teacher started chasing the chicken around with a broom.

"Let's get outta here," Momoshiro sighed, dodging a wildly swinging broom as the chicken and teacher stampeded past their desks.

For once, Kaoru agreed.

 

* * *

 

"Time to wake up, Ryoma," Haruto nudged his charge idly with one foot as he absently tapped his earring.

Ryoma grumbled under his breath but dragged himself upright. "Bell hasn't rung."

"Nope, but," Haruto shot to his feet and stuck his hand in the air, making Ryoma jump in the process. "Sensei! There's a chicken in the classroom!"

The teacher looked bewildered, an edge of disapproval already shadowing his features before another student, Horio, leapt up as well, eager for the spotlight. Haruto mentally snorted.

"Ah! It's true, sensei!" The boy exclaimed loudly. "There's a chicken over there!"

A few of the girls shrieked as said chicken, a large 'A' painted on its side, flapped its wings and half-flew, half-hopped around the room, squawking at the sudden noise around it.

As the class dissolved into confused panic, Haruto beamed proudly at his handiwork, listening to the distant roar of students, teachers, and chickens coming from the rest of the school.

Ah, nothing like a good prank to stir up some fun.

"I think," Haruto glanced at Ryoma who had a semi-evil smirk on his face as he watched the flustered teacher avidly. "You're a bad influence on me."

Haruto smirked back and slung an arm around his charge. Ryoma didn't even protest this time. "Now you're getting it, Ryo-kun."

 

* * *

 

"I trust this won't be an everyday occurrence?" Tezuka enquired blandly.

The regulars plus Akiyama were seated on the bleachers, practice having ended twenty minutes ago. Syusuke watched on, one eye remaining on the teachers still running around after the chickens. He hadn't been this entertained in years.

"Of course not, senpai!" Akiyama saluted the captain cheekily. "I'm playing pranks, not trying to run the teachers into early retirement."

Eiji and Momo guffawed loudly and even Kaidou hid a snicker behind a cough. Kawamura and Oishi were both grinning ruefully and Inui had the slightest of smiles twitching at the corner of his lips. Syusuke even saw a gleam of amusement in Tezuka's eyes. Echizen was smirking widely.

"Have they found all of them yet?" Kawamura asked, squinting at the rush of activity around the school.

"I brought three to school," Momo volunteered, ducking his head sheepishly at the flat stare Tezuka turned on him. "Buchou, I swear I didn't know what they were for."

If it had been anyone other than Tezuka, Syusuke was sure the third-year would have rolled his eyes. As it was, Tezuka only made a noncommittal sound and turned away again.

"From the data I have gathered," Inui spoke up, flipping through his notebook. "The chickens each have an English letter painted on them, more specifically, the letters that would spell out Seigaku."

He paused and everyone glanced at Akiyama. The first-year merely tilted his head, wordlessly prompting Inui to carry on.

"So far," Inui continued. "The 'S', 'E', 'I', 'G', 'A', and 'U' have been found. The 'K' has yet to be captured. The teachers are all trying to find it now."

A moment of silence passed before Akiyama began laughing softly. Syusuke quirked an eyebrow. A niggling suspicion sparked in his mind.

"Inui-senpai," Akiyama grinned, green eyes glowing with mischief. "Whoever said there was a 'K' in the first place?"

Glancing back at the harried adults running back and forth to look for a chicken that didn't exist, Syusuke couldn't help himself. He laughed too.

Oh, this school year was going to be so much fun.

 


	4. Amabile

 

"If you both want to play so much, why don't you just team up and play doubles?"

Haruto was given twin glares of disgust for his efforts.

"No way!" Momo made a face. "I play singles. I'll leave the doubles to Oishi-senpai and Eiji-senpai."

"Same," Ryoma grunted.

Haruto rolled his eyes and exchanged a look of resigned amusement with Fuji. The genius kept pace beside him as they both strolled down the street behind Ryoma and Momo.

Practice had ended half an hour ago. Kaidou and Inui had gone off somewhere to work on another training menu, Kawamura had had to go home to help out in his dad's restaurant, Oishi and Eiji had gone their separate ways as well, and Tezuka had had to stay behind with the coach to look over the timetable for the upcoming Tokyo District Preliminaries.

Fuji had been free though, and since Ryoma and Momo were heading for the street courts to fight for the Singles 3 slot and Haruto's job meant he would have to listen to them bicker and watch them play a game he had zero interest in, the third-year had agreed to accompany them after Haruto had asked.

"There's the street courts," Momo pointed needlessly ahead and both he and Ryoma sped up. "I'm so gonna kick your ass."

"In your dreams," Ryoma scoffed, eyes already gleaming in anticipation.

Haruto sighed. He caught sight of an ice-cream stand that was positioned neatly across from the courts. "Hey, Fuji-senpai, do you want to get an ice-cream first?"

Fuji smiled, adjusting the strap of his tennis bag. "Sounds good. I'll pay."

Haruto grinned teasingly as Momo became distracted enough to gape. "This isn't a date, senpai. I can pay my own share."

Fuji didn't seem at all flustered, simply tilting his head contemplatively. "So you can, but you are my kouhai. I'll pay this time."

Haruto huffed. "In exchange for something then. I don't like mooching."

Fuji chuckled. "I would hardly call it that, but, very well," Blue eyes flickered open. "Include me when you plan your next prank and we'll call it even."

Haruto smirked. "A spot of mischief together? The school won't know what hit them."

A shadow of a smirk flashed across Fuji's own features while neither Ryoma nor Momo seemed to be able to hide their horror.

"Oh boy," Momo muttered. "One of them's bad enough; put 'em together and we're all doomed."

Fuji turned to the tall second-year, eyes closed again. "Did you say something, Momo?"

Momo blanched and laughed nervously. "Not really, senpai. Just, uh, you don't often pay for anyone."

Fuji smiled again and placed a hand on Haruto's shoulder before steering them both in the direction of the ice-cream stand. "There are always exceptions."

Haruto snickered. "You like teasing him."

Fuji said nothing to deny this.

Haruto shook his head but called out to Ryoma instead. "Ryo-kun, snag the court closest to us, okay? I want a good view."

Ryoma glanced at him from under his cap and nodded once. As they moved away, Haruto heard Momo remark, "I thought Akiyama didn't care for tennis. Why does he want to watch us?"

Haruto suppressed a faint frown. Maybe he should pretend to like tennis a bit more.

"Saa, Akiyama, what flavour do you want?"

Keeping an eye glued on Ryoma's figure, Haruto turned back to the third-year. "Vanilla's fine. I'm not one for exotic flavours."

 

* * *

 

Syusuke studied the first-year out of the corner of his eye as he ate his chocolate cone.

How strange. For someone who claimed – and honestly seemed – to not have any interest in tennis, Akiyama hadn't once looked away from the game Echizen and Momo had somehow started against a pair of students from the school Seigaku would be facing first.

He paused in his idle observations to inwardly wince at the immensely appalling massacre – it couldn't even be called a game anymore – happening across the street. Doubles was definitely  _not_  for Echizen or Momo, at least not while they played together.

But back to Akiyama. The first-year wasn't outright staring or anything, taking time to scan the goings-on of the people around them every few minutes, but Syusuke could tell that Akiyama's attention never fully wavered from the match.

It could be because said match was the most interesting thing around but, personally, Syusuke thought that watching the grazing flock of pigeons over by the tree had to be better than enduring the sight of the humiliating beat-down that Echizen and Momo were being put through.

As his two younger teammates crashed into each other yet again and lost another point, Syusuke made a mental note to drop a word to Tezuka – these two were absolutely incompatible for doubles.

"Fuji-senpai," Akiyama spoke up abruptly. "Do reporters follow your team to all the games you play against other schools?"

Syusuke looked to his left, nodding slowly. "Yes, it's good publicity for both Seigaku and the opposing team's school."

Akiyama hummed thoughtfully before nibbling on the cone. "Then are there any specific papers or magazines that do the coverage for each game?"

Syusuke frowned, remembering his two-year tenure in Seigaku's Tennis Club so far. "Mainly just Monthly Pro Tennis. A few of the local newspapers have done stories on us as well, but since we've never reached the finals, most don't bother." He glanced curiously at the first-year. "Why so interested? Planning to become a journalist? Or a reporter?"

Akiyama grimaced. "No way; I hate reporters. I'd never want to be one."

Syusuke chuckled. "Then why the questions? Anything to do with sports doesn't usually interest you."

Akiyama shrugged, gaze flitting back to the match yet again. "No particular reason really. I don't care for strangers hovering everywhere though so it's a bit of a relief that there won't be a whole group of them at Ryoma's games."

Syusuke considered this for a moment. "You'll be coming to our matches then?"

"Mm," Akiyama nodded, finishing up his ice-cream. "Of course. I have to watch Ryo-kun play."

Syusuke glanced sidelong at the first-year, eyes slitting open. 'Have to', not 'want to'. He wondered if he should read much into that.

"Oh?" He mocked out loud. "And here I thought you would want to come watch your senpais show off."

Akiyama grinned. "That too. I'm sure you'll all wow me with your crazy skills."

Syusuke took the challenge personally, tossing his used napkin in a nearby trashcan as they both rose to their feet. Tennis had always been more of a hobby to him than something he wanted to strive towards, especially since it came to him so easily, but he got the feeling that Akiyama wasn't someone who could be impressed easily and Syusuke would probably have to work for it.

"Then be sure to grab a good spot when I play," He offered a borderline crafty smile. "I'm certain I'll be able to surprise you."

 

* * *

 

"Alright, as you all should know if you've actually taken the time to check the Preliminaries schedule, the first school we'll be up against is Gyokurin Middle School," The coach started once the regulars were all gathered around her.

Ryoma tuned her out as she went on to list the regulars slotted for each match. After losing – and wasn't that just humiliatingly hard to admit – to those two Gyokurin students, he and Momo had managed to convince Fuji – Haruto hadn't cared one way or the other – not to tell Tezuka just how bad they were in doubles and had managed to grab the Doubles 2 match tomorrow when they played the official game against Gyokurin. Fuji had serenely agreed, and then subtly promised retribution should they lose as miserably as they had on the street court, all while smiling away at them. All things considered, it was rather creepy, but Ryoma wasn't too worried; he had no intention of doing a repeat performance of that match.

He started paying attention again when it looked like Ryuuzaki-sensei was winding down to a close. "So meet here at eight and we'll take the bus to Gyokurin," She finished.

Ryoma frowned, gaze automatically darting to Haruto at his usual spot under the tree nearby before looking back. "Will that be one of the school buses?"

The coach looked mildly taken aback that he had spoken at all but answered readily enough. "Yes, of course. We'll be taking a school bus to all our matches."

Ryoma reached up and tugged his cap down. "Then I'll take transit. Or a taxi. I'll meet the team there."

Now the entire team was staring at him. Eiji, unsurprisingly, spoke up first. "Nya, Ochibi, why? The buses are really roomy since it'll just be us. Even the other club members will have to make their own way there if they want to come."

Ryoma sighed but recalled the numerous public bus routes Haruto had been tracing on a map the last few days whenever they were at home before giving up and hunting down a phone directory. The other teen had then proceeded to grill the taxi company in an effort to find out how good their drivers were and whether or not they were capable of tailing a school bus without making it noticeable, all while manoeuvring through morning rush-hour traffic. The answer must have been unsatisfactory because Ryoma had caught his bodyguard looking up school bus blueprints yesterday and muttering something about stowing away  _under_  the vehicle. How the hell was Haruto supposed to keep him safe if the idiot got himself killed, and in a bus accident no less?

But Haruto was clearly making an effort to stick with Ryoma at all times, and the least Ryoma could do was make it a little easier for him.

"I'm going with Haruto," Ryoma revealed, nodding over at said first-year. "He's coming to the game."

Ryuuzaki-sensei blinked in obvious consternation. Per the wishes of both his dad and Haruto, the woman hadn't been told of Haruto's real purpose here at Seigaku. "Ryoma, I'm sure Akiyama will be fine getting to Gyokurin alone. I'd be happy to give him directions if he needs them."

Ryoma grimaced inwardly but persisted. "It doesn't really matter if I go with Haruto, does it? So long as I get to the school on time, it'll be fine. I won't be late."

"That's not the problem, Echizen," Oishi now said, but the third-year looked apologetic. "Teams usually arrive together to present a united front of sorts, and it's kind of considered bad conduct for a team to arrive at different times. It's disrespectful to the other school as well."

Ryoma's jaw clenched. Great, now what?

"Maa, why don't we let Akiyama ride with us, Sumire-chan?" Fuji suggested.

Ryoma shot him a suspicious look. From what he had gathered, the genius could be nice but he wasn't one to openly  _do_  something nice just for the heck of it. Momo had commented on how rare it was that Fuji would be willing to pay for anyone when it came to food – the third-year certainly hadn't done as much last year for either Momo or Kaidou.

"Don't call me that, Fuji!" Ryuuzaki-sensei said sharply, but she sounded more resigned than anything else before shaking her head. "We can't do that. Only regulars get a ride there or other people will start complaining, probably see it as favouritism, not to mention that the student in question isn't even part of the Tennis Club, which makes it even worse. It's like inviting a fan along for no good reason."

"Akiyama doesn't even like tennis," Momo contradicted. "So he's not exactly a fan. We can just bring him along as... Echizen's plus one. His lucky charm or something."

Ryoma wasn't the only one who threw the second-year looks of incredulous disgust.

"Fshuuu, yes, I'm sure everyone will go for that," Kaidou cut in sarcastically.

Momo glared balefully at Kaidou but Tezuka cut in before an argument could break out.

"Echizen," Ryoma met his captain's stern gaze evenly. "I am sure Akiyama can make his own way to Gyokurin. Why is it so important for you to accompany him?"

Ryoma had no answer for this. Shit, maybe he should've paid more attention when Haruto had gone over their back-stories with him.

"No reason," He muttered, tugging at his cap. "I just- want to."

'Have to' probably wouldn't have gone over well.

There was a long pause in which no one seemed to know what to say. Ryoma didn't ask for much – or anything at all to be honest – and his request to do something as simple as travel to the games with a friend no doubt came as a bit of a shock, especially since he never really went out of his way to  _ask_ to spend time with other people outside of tennis practice.

"We place all our bags at the back of the bus," Kawamura looked tentative but forged on nonetheless as everyone stared quizzically at him. "We could just... stow him onto the bus without letting anyone see and then... smuggle him off when we get there. He's small enough for all of us to block him from sight when we gather our things. And then we'll just do the same thing on the way back."

Another long pause ensued. Ryoma wasn't sure why the third-year was helping him out by suggesting this at all or why the others hadn't shot the idea down yet. He wasn't quite sure why they were trying to come up with a solution in the first place when he didn't even have a relatively good explanation as to why he wanted to stick with Haruto; not one he could give anyway.

He fully expected at least Tezuka to protest but his captain had a strangely thoughtful expression on his face, as if he was actually  _considering_  the option. Now that was a shocker.

Clearly, Ryuuzaki-sensei had come to the same conclusion. The woman looked around and placed her hands on her hips as she sighed and shook her head.

"What in the world has that boy done to the lot of you?" The coach sounded somewhere between amused and wary. "Make no mistake – this is breaking school rules, no matter how minor. The administration rules clearly states that the buses are for club use only, and for regulars at that. I expected this from Momo and Eiji and even Fuji, but you as well Tezuka?"

Tezuka didn't show an iota of discomfort at the steely gaze levelled on him by the coach. "I am aware that this would be an infraction of school regulations but there is also the image of the team to consider and the respect we must afford to our opponents as well."

"And the fact that you or I could simply order Echizen to come with us without a tagalong didn't occur to you?" Ryuuzaki-sensei enquired dryly.

There were stifled snickers from the group even as Tezuka remained as stoic as ever.

Ryuuzaki-sensei heaved another sigh. "Oh what the heck," She relented with the faintest of smiles. "I do wonder what it is about that boy that's got all of you banding together like this though."

Eiji grinned cheerfully now that they would be getting their way. "Haru's one of us now, sensei, even if he doesn't play tennis. Momo's right; he's Ochibi's plus one!"

Ryuuzaki-sensei threw her hands in the air as Ryoma watched on, bemused.

"Very well," She turned in Haruto's direction. "Akiyama, come here for a moment!"

The first-year in question looked up from whatever he had been doing before grabbing his and Ryoma's school bags and jogging over. As he drew closer, Ryoma saw that his bodyguard was stuffing a sketchbook and pencil away.

"Yes, Ryuuzaki-sensei?" Haruto reached them, casting a curious glance at Ryoma before concentrating on the tennis coach.

The woman studied him closely. "Akiyama Haruto, right?"

Haruto blinked. "Yes, ma'am."

"Hmph," Ryuuzaki-sensei crossed her arms in a way that dimly reminded Ryoma of his father when the man was posturing and pretending to be intimidating. "My team here insists on smuggling you onboard the bus that will be taking them to Gyokurin for their first match in the Preliminaries tomorrow. Mind telling me just what is so special about you that warrant special treatment?"

For the first time since Ryoma had met Haruto, his bodyguard looked... thrown. Haruto was seemingly Ryoma's age, but while Ryoma definitely had above-average intelligence, he wasn't like the other teen, who acted childish but had a confident air about him that said he knew much more than he let on. Invariably, Ryoma had subconsciously thought there wasn't really anything Haruto wouldn't know or expect. The expression he had on now lasted only for a fleeting second but the genuine, honest-to-god surprise at something as simple as a group of students helping him out was something Ryoma didn't think he could forget. Being startled by anything or not anticipating something just didn't seem to calculate into Haruto's personality.

But his bodyguard recovered in the blink of an eye and the other teen was quick to flash an endearing grin at the coach. "It's my natural charm, sensei. No one can resist it."

Eiji and Momo laughed and even Tezuka's eyes seemed to soften for a moment. Ryuuzaki-sensei looked startled but barked out a laugh as her frame relaxed.

"Alright brat, you might actually be good for this team. Tomorrow at eight; make sure Ryoma and Momo aren't late."

Ryoma rolled his eyes as Momo voiced a complaint, but Haruto only saluted before shooting him a crooked smile of approval.

Ryoma smirked back. Never let it be said that he couldn't think for himself.

 

* * *

 

The matches were sooo boring.

After Ryoma and Momo had flaked out in front of both teams and then started playing some sort of weird double singles game that Haruto hadn't tried to follow, it was quite clear that Gyokurin just wasn't on Seigaku's level. The matches after that so far were all driving that point home.

He sighed mournfully. Hopefully, the future games would be somewhat more interesting. As it was, Haruto just might fall asleep during these games and some shady criminal who had it out for Ryoga or Rinko or Nanjiroh or all three for that matter could put a bullet in Ryoma's head and he'd sleep right through it. Then again, he was fairly attuned to danger now and he had tagged Ryoma's cap, wristband, rackets, club jacket, socks, and shoes with protective runes, just in case.

Leaning back to survey the courts and surrounding area, he lingered on Inoue and Shiba, the journalist and photographer from Monthly Pro Tennis. He would have to do something about that film again, though this would probably be the last time he would be able to get away with it without getting the woman fired. It wasn't that he had any particular qualms about doing so but pictures of Seigaku were bound to get out sooner or later and someone would begin suspecting foul play if he repeatedly destroyed the photos.

He moved on and narrowed his eyes when he spotted another camera near the far end of the bottom bleachers. Its owner was a man in jeans and a casual grey sweatshirt. Nondescript and of average height for a thirty-something-year-old  _American_. He had a notepad in his lap along with a pen and he stopped every few moments to scribble something down. The camera bag beside him had the words Sports Monthly sewn on it in English.

Haruto cocked his head, tapping his earring absently as he followed the trajectory of the camera lens. He watched and waited another half hour as both Kawamura's and Fuji's games came to a close before uncrossing his legs and stretching languidly.

Slipping away into the shadows, he smirked darkly. American reporters were rare in Japan, Sports Monthly didn't exist, and the camera hadn't once wavered from Ryoma, who was no longer playing and was simply sitting on the side.

Bingo.

 

* * *

 

"Yeah?"

_"..."_

"What-?! Where?"

_"..."_

"But-"

_"..."_

"Yeah, okay. Got it. Yeah. Bye."

Sadaharu observed their youngest player closely from behind his glasses as the first-year put away his phone. Hmm. Echizen had just gotten tenser, his shoulders rising from their usual relaxed state by ten percent.

"Echizen," He called out when it looked like no one else had noticed. "Is there something wrong?"

Echizen didn't jump guiltily or look shifty-eyed but the tension was still there, especially when the rest of the team paused and glanced over as they continued packing up.

"No," The prodigy said flatly, pulling on his jacket. "Haruto's gone to the bathroom though."

Everyone else turned away again but Sadaharu only averted his gaze. That didn't quite match the tone of the conversation.

Ten minutes later they were milling about around their bus, garnering more than a few curious looks from the Seigaku club members who had gotten permission to come watch and were about to leave themselves. They hastily hurried towards the bus stop when Tezuka frowned at them.

"Where is he?" Momoshiro burst out at last. "Echizen, are you sure he didn't get lost or something? Which bathroom did he use?"

Echizen shrugged and didn't supply any suggestions.

"I could go check," Fuji volunteered. Hmm. That was unusual. Ninety percent of the time, Fuji preferred observing from the sidelines like Sadaharu, no matter the occasion.

"That's okay, senpai," Echizen dismissed. Sadaharu frowned. Did the first-year sound nervous? "I'm sure he'll be here soon."

Perhaps Fuji picked up the inflection as well because the genius tilted his head to the side and his eyes flickered open just a little. To Sadaharu's disappointment though, the other third-year didn't push, and they lapsed into silence once again.

Another two minutes ticked by and just as Kaidou was beginning to look a bit antsy, Akiyama came flying around a building and skidded to a stop next to them.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Akiyama apologized at once, looking sheepish. "I got lost trying to get here and I had to double back when I realized I was on the wrong side of the school."

Momo and Eiji both grinned good-naturedly and ribbed the first-year about it. Oishi assured the boy that it was alright and they hadn't waited long before he and Kawamura closed in behind Akiyama and ushered him onto the bus after making sure no one was looking. The rest piled in behind them, Sadaharu clambering in at the back of the group.

He alone saw the worried crease on Echizen's face as the first-year stared after Akiyama.

Interesting.

 

* * *

 

The man Haruto had cornered had been hired by a Samurai Nanjiroh fan to find out where the retired tennis player now lived. Simple enough to get rid of with a minor Memory Charm to make the man permanently forget any leads that had led him here in the first place and a Compulsion Charm to send him packing. Haruto had even been kind enough to give him the money to buy his plane ticket.

The preparation that the man had done had been absolute crap but Haruto had been expecting as much. The first few who came after a target were usually idiots, blundering into the situation without much thought.

He would have to work on Ryoma's facial expressions though. Unless the boy wanted his team to know and said team could actually keep their collective mouths shut, his charge would have to stop looking so concerned every time Haruto called him with news like this.

As it was, both Fuji and Inui seemed to suspect something, but the former had already been inordinately intrigued by Akiyama before Gyokurin and Inui was just very observant. Haruto would simply have to be more careful. They were good kids; he didn't want to have to modify their memories or, worse, make them curious enough for them to start their own digging and accidentally put themselves in unknowing danger.

 


	5. Capriccio

 

Ryoma yawned as he made his way down the stairs. It was a Sunday so he had been able to sleep in without his mother or Haruto dragging him out of bed. With his homework finished as well, he could look forward to an afternoon of nothing but tennis.

"Finally awake, Ryoma?" His mother bustled past him with two plates of pasta. "Haruto was up hours ago."

"Haruto isn't normal," Ryoma retorted, pouring himself a cup of water and reaching for one of the plates. He blinked in surprise when his mother held it out of his reach.

"This isn't for you, dear," RInko said. "You woke up late so you'll have to wait."

Ryoma followed her out of the kitchen, bewildered. "Haruto wants two plates of pasta? Or are you eating as well? I thought you didn't like pasta."

"Oh it's not for me," Rinko smiled as she swept into the sitting room. "Haru-kun, Fuji-kun! Why don't you take a break and eat something? You've been working hard all morning."

Ryoma stared dumbly at the figure of his teammate and senpai sitting comfortably next to his bodyguard in a beanbag chair, papers scattered over the table in front of them.

"Thanks, Rinko-san," Haruto chirped as he accepted a plate.

"Yes, thank you, Rinko-san," Fuji echoed, smiling pleasantly at Ryoma's mother.

"What are you doing here?" Ryoma blurted out without thought.

"Ryoma, be polite!" Rinko scolded.

"Saa, it's alright," Fuji interjected. "I didn't tell Echizen I was coming."

"That's no excuse, senpai," Haruto objected but shot a teasing grin at Ryoma. "It's just 'cause Ryo-kun's socially stunted."

Ryoma glared at his bodyguard. Haruto never let an opportunity to tease him go.

"I'll leave you boys alone then," Rinko announced. "Ryoma, Haru-kun, I have some shopping to do. Nanjiroh's out back if you need anything. Ryoma, if you want something to eat, there's another plate of pasta in the fridge."

The three of them chorused a farewell but Ryoma was quick to turn back to the pile of papers on the table. "So what are you doing here, senpai?"

"Akiyama's helping me with my English homework," Fuji said smoothly.

"You're a third-year, senpai," Ryoma countered flatly, swatting at the fork of pasta Haruto was waving cheekily in his face.

"And Akiyama is  _British_ ," Fuji pointed out with amusement. "Not to mention you're both from America."

Ryoma blinked. Ah, he'd forgotten about that. He glanced at the papers and then did a double-take when he caught sight of the school blueprints meticulously sketched out by hand.

"That is  _not_ English homework!" He scowled at Haruto. "You're playing a prank again. With Fuji-senpai!"

Haruto nodded with an entirely inappropriate lack of concern. "Yup, I did promise, and Fuji-senpai's history teacher was being totally unfair to Kawamura-senpai. We're getting revenge."

Ryoma pinched the bridge of his nose before staking towards the door. "I don't want to know. Don't get caught."

"I never get caught," Haruto said cheerfully.

"Neither do I," Fuji agreed.

Ryoma just shook his head. At least whatever happened tomorrow would probably get him out of class early again.

 

* * *

 

"I can plant one in each of the third-floor classrooms," Syusuke promised. "And most of the second-floor classrooms as well. 2-7 might be difficult though. The homeroom teacher of that class gets there almost earlier than the janitor."

"2-7 is Momo-senpai and Kaidou-senpai's classroom, isn't it?" Akiyama looked thoughtful at Syusuke's nod. "I'll cause a disturbance outside and you can sneak in and plant it. Simple enough."

"And these things will really go off all at the same time?" Syusuke asked curiously. That had been the one thing Akiyama had refused to let him in on – the technology behind their prank. Syusuke had decided not to push. Come to think of it, he didn't push a lot of issues when Akiyama was concerned.

They had drawn up the school blueprints together though, pinpointing all the best locations in the vents where the devices would go off, and they had even worked through the formulae on applying powdered dye to only human hair and not to clothes or skin. It had taken Syusuke all of a minute to realize that the first-year had an astronomically high IQ. The calculations needed for the chemical mixture was something even Syusuke had to read over several times before he started to understand it.

Later, after learning how to pick locks courtesy of Akiyama, they divided the work so that Syusuke would be in charge of depositing the devices in each classroom vent on the second and third floors as well as the library. Akiyama would be in charge of the first floor, the bathrooms, and the staffroom.

They had also chosen Monday to pull this off since there would be no practice in the morning and he and Akiyama could wreak havoc in the school before students and teachers started filling it up.

With a half-smile at Akiyama as the first-year mulled over one of the blueprints, Syusuke turned his attention to the design he was drawing. Again, he would leave the technological aspect to Akiyama, but the artwork was all his.

 

* * *

 

"Again?!" Takeshi exclaimed when a heavy bag was thrust into his hands. "Now what? Am I transporting mice this time?"

"Don't be silly," Akiyama admonished as he swung another bag over his shoulder. "Why would I put live mice in a bag? I'd keep them in cages like the chickens."

"Then what am I holding?" Takeshi asked suspiciously, hefting the bag as the three of them headed for school. He knew it would probably be something like this when Akiyama had called and asked him to swing by at the usual time when he and Echizen had practice. "And how come Echizen isn't holding one?"

"He's not part of this prank," Akiyama told him. "This one's me and Fuji-senpai's."

Takeshi paled dramatically. "Oh god, I don't wanna know. I'm just taking this to school, right?"

He couldn't quite relax completely even after Akiyama nodded. The first-year's smile was far too much like Fuji's in that moment.

 

* * *

 

Suzuki Hina, the homeroom teacher of 2-7, jerked up in surprise when a loud crash echoed from the hallway. Hurriedly, she dropped her pen and bustled out into the hall, blinking in shock when she found a first-year student scrambling to pick up a large amount of books from the ground.

"Oh dear, are you alright?" Hina hastily bent down to help and was rewarded by a surprised smile and bright green eyes.

"Oh, I'm fine, sensei," The boy assured. "I guess I was carrying too much at once. Thanks for giving me a hand."

"No problem at all," Hina replied kindly as she gathered up about a third of the books. "Where were you going with all these?"

"The library," The boy replied promptly. "I borrowed quite a few and didn't bother returning any until I finished all of them."

"I'll accompany you then," Hina decided at once, and forged on when the boy started babbling sheepish protests. "Nonsense, dear. You might drop them again if you carry all these by yourself. The library is just up ahead. I really don't mind."

The first-year smiled again. "Thanks, sensei. I appreciate it."

Hina smiled fondly at him. Now if only all the students had his manners.

She didn't notice the rather infamous Fuji Syusuke slip into her classroom behind her back as they made their way to the library.

 

* * *

 

Haruto glanced at the clock and then out at the sky just to make sure the clock was right. It wouldn't do to time it incorrectly.

He and Fuji had agreed to set off the prank at half an hour after lunch when Fuji, and by extension Kawamura, Tezuka, and Inui, would be attending history class. There would also be the bonus of there being no gym class in session so all the students and teachers would be caught in the prank.

He himself was eager to see just what Fuji had done for the dye pattern. The third-year had refused to tell him and had made him promise not to look after Haruto had told him that he could handle the technical part without actually seeing Fuji's handiwork.

_Five... Four... Three... Two... One..._

Haruto activated the magical trigger on all the devices planted throughout the school and hid an evil grin as he did so.

Some girl across the room noticed first and she was quick to yelp, gaining the attention of most of the class as she flapped a hand through the air in front of her.

There was an orange mist drifting in the air and it was fast descending over everyone's heads. Only Haruto could feel the thrum of magic and the exact moment of when the charm took hold.

The girl from before  _screeched_.

Haruto glanced up and exploded with laughter as the class descended into madness for the second time since the semester had begun.

The girl's hair, and everyone else's, was now dyed orange, but not  _just_  orange. The strands were also patterned with green cacti, each of them carefully depicted, and seemingly moving every time the hair shifted.

Nice. Fuji loved cacti. The third-year had outdone himself.

Grinning, he peered into the window beside him at his faint reflection. His black hair was now orange and it clashed something horrible with his eyes. Perfect.

" _Haruto..._ "

Biting back a loud guffaw, he kept a straight face as he turned to meet Ryoma's glare. The poor boy's left eye was twitching. The effect of the aforementioned glare was exponentially lessened however due to the fact that Ryoma's hair was just as orange and cactus-patterned as everyone else's. Echizen Ryoma did  _not_  make a good orange-haired teen.

Most teachers didn't like it when students kept headgear on during class and Ryoma was no exception. Thus, the prank had effectively caught him as well.

"Yes, Ryo-kun?" Haruto enquired obligingly.

"I am going to kill you," Ryoma said in a very, very calm tone of voice. "I hope you realize that. You are a dead man walking."

"Now, now, Ryo-kun," Haruto mock-soothed. "Is there really any need to resort to such crude threats? Violence is not the answer, you know."

Ryoma's left eye twitched again and Haruto just managed to whip out his cell phone and snap a picture before diving away, cackling madly all the while as his charge lunged at him with death in his eyes.

Maybe he'd get Fuji to treat him again. Playing pranks together was great fun.

 

* * *

 

"Hey, what is that?"

Kaoru glanced up absently from his notebook and then frowned when what looked like yellow powder floated down from above. Beside him, Momoshiro was waving a hand at the dust, trying to swipe it away. He turned, about to offer his own comment, when he fully caught sight of his fellow regular. Anything he was about to say was instantly forgotten.

Momoshiro turned as well, frowning, and then his mouth dropped open in shock as his gaze landed on Kaoru.

"Akiyama!" They both hissed in unison, and normally, Kaoru would've been mortified at having anything in common with the idiot broom-head, but at the moment, all he could think of was the fact that Akiyama had never shown any interest in cacti.

That was  _Fuji's_  obsession.

Startled cries – some delighted, some hysterical – erupted around him and Kaoru snatched up his bag and began stuffing his belongings inside. If he hurried, he could hunt down that prank-loving fox of a first-year and demand to know whether or not this was permanent and, if so, get a head-start on booking an appointment at the nearest barbershop for a dye job before anyone else could.

He was  _not_  going to get stuck with asking  _Fuji_  the same thing. His senpai would probably screw with his head just for the heck of it. At least Akiyama wouldn't be so sadistic.

Maybe.

And oh  _god_ , yellow hair did not suit him  _at all_. He took minor comfort in the knowledge that it was at least better than Momoshiro's though.

 

* * *

 

"Oh dear," Eiji heard his partner sigh faintly. "I wonder how Tezuka's taking this."

Eiji scribbled down the answer for a math question before looking up at Oishi in front of him. And promptly dropped his pencil.

Oishi's hair was  _blue_. With potted cacti printed in the short locks. His partner was currently examining himself in the window. Rather calmly, all things considered.

Eiji almost gave himself whiplash as he did the same.

"Oh my god!" He blurted out, staring at his once-red hair now turned a royal blue with green cacti shifting whenever his hair stirred.

A scream came from across the room and several other girls joined in. Eiji didn't turn to look. Instead, he enquired conversationally, "Do you think Fujiko designed the cacti?"

Oishi snorted and then both of them were hooting as the surreal situation sank in.

"Tezuka is gonna make Fujiko run a million laps!" Eiji gasped, red-faced as he gleefully shook his head to make the cacti move. "He's probably gonna try and make  _Haru_  run a million laps!"

"No doubt. I suppose we should be thankful Tezuka's not Atobe. How did they do this anyway?" Oishi asked, running his fingers through his hair.

"It's  _Fujiko_  and  _Haru_ ," Eiji reminded his partner. "They're bad enough by themselves. This time, they combined forces!" A hopeful look surfaced on his face as a thought struck him. "Do you think they'd let me join them next time?"

Oishi groaned. "I don't know. Frankly, I don't want to know. Come on, let's go see if we can redirect Tezuka's wrath a bit. I think it's safe to say school's over."

Eiji grinned, bouncing out of his seat. Another half-day of school. No wonder Haruto didn't play his pranks more often. None of them would get an education otherwise.

 

* * *

 

Takashi absently waved a hand in the air as something blue fluttered into his line of sight.

Wait, why would there be something blue floating in the air?

His head jerked up and he squinted at the blue dust drifting downwards from above. What in the world-

A cough that sounded almost like a laugh came from behind him and he turned to glance at Fuji. The notebook he had been holding slipped from his hands and onto the ground the second his eyes landed on his teammate.

"Fuji, what happened to your hair?!" He exclaimed, unheeding of the fact that class was still in session.

His friend looked up, his signature smile curving his lips. "Hm? Ah, you mean your hair, Taka-san?"

In the time it took for Takashi to crane his neck towards the windows of the classroom, screams broke out from behind him. He gaped at his reflection, not even noticing Inui and Tezuka doing the same thing.

If he had, he might've had the sense to take cover.

" _Fuji_."

Takashi instinctively winced and tore his eyes away from his own reflection to look at Tezuka instead. Their captain did not look pleased.

"Yes, Tezuka?" Fuji, blue hair dancing with cacti, had plastered an innocent smile on his face.

Tezuka's eyes were shadowed by his – now blue – bangs. Never a good sign. "Did you have a hand in this?"

Fuji's smile widened. "Is it so obvious?"

Tezuka's left eye twitched even as he took a deep breath. "Is it permanent?"

"Saa, I wonder." Right then and there, Takashi decided that Fuji must have some sort of death wish.

If Tezuka had been anyone else, there would've been steam coming out of his ears. "Fifty laps at practice, Fuji."

Fuji inclined his head as the four of them began packing up, Inui still scribbling away in his notebook and examining his hair in the window.

"Of course. Well worth the laps though."

Takashi bit back a laugh as Tezuka shook his head in a resigned, disgusted sort of way. The anger was already draining away though, so that was a good sign.

He finally looked up at the rest of the class and couldn't help his laughter this time when he caught sight of the history teacher. Everyone had their hair dyed blue and patterned with potted cacti – there was even a guy at the back who had been almost bald but the top of his head was now as blue as everyone else's – but the teacher was coloured blue _completely_. Her hair, face, hands, and even legs were shaded a royal blue and green cacti dotted her skin like chickenpox. Horror couldn't begin to describe the expression on her face.

"She's the only one like that," Fuji said as he came to stand beside Takashi. "Bit of revenge for you."

With a last smile, the genius breezed past him and headed for the door, Inui at his heels and already grilling the other third-year for answers on the science behind the prank. Tezuka almost-stalked behind them, though Takashi was sure the captain's eyes flashed briefly with satisfaction when he passed by the teacher.

Sighing, Takashi grabbed his bag and headed out after his friends. Well, he supposed blue hair wasn't the worst that could happen.

 

* * *

 

"How many laps did you get, senpai?"

Syusuke began his stretches even as he craned his head up to look at the first-year currently perched at the very top of the metal fence surrounding the tennis courts.

"Fifty," He answered with only a slightly mournful sigh. "But the prank was worth it."

Another smatter of laughter sounded behind him and Syusuke glanced over his shoulder to catch a group of second-years comparing their hair. It seemed that so long as one wasn't singled out in a prank, nobody went home in tears. Even the girls had giggled about it once they had calmed down. He wondered if that was part of the reason Akiyama had suggested a school-wide prank instead of just aiming for the history teacher and a handful of students Fuji disliked, though they had both agreed to give the woman a much larger dose.

As if reading his mind, Akiyama hoisted himself onto his hands and teetered back and forth atop the metal pole as he called down, "Pranks are supposed to make people laugh, and they're funniest only when everyone can enjoy them."

Syusuke hummed thoughtfully. He knew what most of the student body thought of him and he couldn't say they were entirely wrong. Hurting people he didn't care about, physically or mentally or emotionally for that matter, especially those he thought deserved it, wasn't something he would ever lose sleep over, so he supposed it was a good thing he had done this prank with Akiyama. The first-year had inadvertently held him back in a roundabout way.

At the moment though, he was more concerned about the fact that said first-year was now performing cartwheels on top of the fence, at least a dozen feet off the ground.

"Akiyama, mind telling me what you're doing up there?"

Akiyama smirked. "Ryo-kun's not very happy with me right now. He's in the locker room now but he was on something of a warpath earlier."

Syusuke couldn't help chuckling at the mental image but his uneasiness only grew as Akiyama stood up, balancing precariously on the balls of his sneakered feet. "Akiyama, perhaps you could hide up a tree instead? You're not in the safest of places at the moment."

"Hmm? I'm fine, I'm fine; don't worry about me."

Just as Syusuke was about to try and talk the teen down again, an alarmed shout came from across the courts.

"Akiyama! Get down from there!"

Ah, cue Oishi, their resident mother hen.

The vice-captain was standing beside Syusuke in the blink of an eye, wide-eyed with barely controlled panic. "Akiyama! What are you doing? That's dangerous! Get back down here before you fall!"

Syusuke thought Akiyama looked more amused than anything else but Oishi's open worry must have gotten through to some degree because the first-year humoured him and consented without fuss. Unfortunately, he almost gave Oishi a heart attack in the process when he leaned down, grasped a few of the metal loops in the fence, and flipped forward and down, pushing away and letting go when his feet were closest to the ground once more and freefalling the rest of the way.

Akiyama landed lightly in front of them, straightening up and sweeping a flourishing bow as he did so as if he was some sort of trapeze artist in a circus act.

Syusuke needed a second to realize he had fully opened his eyes and taken a step forward, and he quickly put down his hands again, having been in the process of reaching out to somehow catch Akiyama before the first-year broke a leg. Then again, when the teen had let go, it had been barely seven feet to the ground – not that high for someone who was trained and used to leaping about as Akiyama seemed to be. He really needn't have worried.

On the other hand, Oishi was patting Akiyama down, scolding and fretting at the same time.

"Is he alright?"

Tezuka's voice almost made Syusuke jump. He hadn't heard the captain arrive. The third-year must have gotten here just as Akiyama had let go.

"Yes, he looks fine," Syusuke glanced at his friend, mouth quirking up when he spotted the cacti-dappled blue locks. "I thought you were angry with the two of us."

Tezuka arched an eyebrow at him, attention still half on Akiyama. "Annoyed, Fuji, and not to the point where I want him breaking his neck. Now shouldn't you be running?"

"Oh! I'll run with you, senpai!" Akiyama piped up, expertly detaching himself from Oishi's concerned ramblings and bouncing over to their side.

Syusuke watched on with no small amount of amusement as the first-year turned beseeching eyes on Tezuka.

"Tezuka-senpai, this prank was something Fuji-senpai and I came up with," The Akiyama clasped his hands together as he peered up at the stern captain. "So it wouldn't be fair if only Fuji-senpai runs, and if we both run, that means we can both do twenty-five laps and that'll add up to fifty, right?"

Syusuke bit the inside of his cheek in an attempt to stave off laughter. It was a nice try but it wasn't going to work-

"Fine,"

Syusuke's gaze flicked up. The smallest hint of a rueful smile tugged at Tezuka's mouth. Anyone else would have missed it.

"But you run all twenty-five, clear?"

Akiyama snapped a sharp salute before breaking out into a mischievous grin. "Crystal, senpai."

He turned and caught the hem of Syusuke's shirt, giving it a light tug before releasing it and heading off towards the edge of the courts. "Come on, senpai, the sooner we start, the sooner we finish."

Syusuke shot Tezuka a lingering look of bemusement before turning to follow.

How odd. Not three months into their acquaintance and the notoriously reserved tennis captain seemed to have grown a soft spot for Akiyama.

And the first-year in question didn't even play tennis. Would wonders never cease.

 

* * *

 

"Wow, his stamina's good."

"Whose?"

"That first-year – look. He's running Fuji-senpai into the ground and he's barely broken a sweat."

"Shh, not so loud. You want Fuji on our asses? We'll turn out like that third-year history teacher next time."

"How do you know it was him?"

"Who  _else_  is both smart enough to pull off that dyeing gas stuff  _and_  likes cactuses? It has to be Fuji."

"So why isn't he in trouble yet? I mean there's no proof but someone-"

"Dude, who's gonna report him? You? I'm certainly not volunteering."

"Good point. Why is that first-year running anyways?"

"Who knows? He's weird like that. Waits for Echizen to finish practice every single time. Maybe he finally got bored and wants to run laps just for the heck of it."

Haruto chuckled to himself as he heard some of the hushed conversation going on amongst the club members. "Hey senpai, apparently, I'm running you into the ground."

Beside him, Fuji's breathing was slightly uneven and he was panting – while Haruto was barely sweating and his breathing was still easy – but he managed a genuine smile in Haruto's direction before narrowing his eyes at the talking students who hastily scuttled away to practice their swings.

"Hmm, yes, this is a bit embarrassing," The third-year huffed. "All that martial arts you take must keep you in good condition."

Haruto grinned and did an about-face so that he was running backwards. "Ne, senpai, why do you play tennis?"

Fuji favoured him with a mildly perplexed look. "It's something to pass the time, I suppose. Tennis comes pretty easy to me."

"So it's a hobby?" Haruto queried.

Fuji considered this for a moment before nodding. "I guess so, yes."

"Hmm," Haruto tilted his head, studying the genius. "Do you want to reach the finals?"

A small frown creased the third-year's brow. "Of course."

Haruto hummed again, contemplative. "...Do you want to win the championship?"

Haruto could see the subtle shift in Fuji's thoughts as the teen's automatic reply was suppressed and a smile curved his lips again. "Doesn't everybody? Why the sudden questions, Akiyama?"

Haruto smiled back and spun around again. So he was right – Fuji honestly couldn't care one way or the other whether or not Seigaku  _really_  stood at the top. And so long as even one member of the tennis club regulars wasn't giving their all towards that goal, Seigaku would never win. At the moment at least, this team didn't stand half a chance of reaching the top.

He didn't say any of this though, offering a carefree smile over his shoulder instead. "Reach the finals and I'll tell you, Fuji-senpai."

Fuji chuckled, the sound a mix of amusement, curiosity, and wariness. "Your thoughts on the matter are rather expensive."

Haruto grinned, tapping the side of his head with one finger. "Of course. I'm young in body, old in soul. I have a fountain of profound wisdom in here to impart."

Fuji laughed as they rounded the courts again on their twenty-fourth lap. For all his genius, the teen didn't quite realize that Haruto was only half-joking.

 

* * *

 

"What are you doing?"

Haruto glanced up. "Oh? I thought you weren't talking to me?"

Ryoma scowled but flopped to the ground next to him. "The dye's coming off already so I'll forgive you," He said loftily, grumbling when Haruto grinned at him. "Well? What are you doing?"

"Researching your next opponents," Haruto replied, pulling up the profile he had compiled of Fudoumine's captain. "Did you know Tachibana Kippei was once a very aggressive player but changed his style after injuring a friend?"

"No," Ryoma answered bluntly. "Why would I care? And why do you care?"

Haruto shrugged. "Have to make sure none of them are a danger to you, which means digging into their pasts. The internet is a fascinating thing; you can find just about anything on it. People upload everything they can record in real life these days."

Ryoma grunted noncommittally. "It's the modern age. And aren't you a bit paranoid? Anyone dangerous wouldn't be a teenager."

Haruto raised a pointed eyebrow. Ryoma sighed.

"Anyone dangerous who's coming after me wouldn't be a teenager," He amended before peering curiously at Haruto. "If some guy with a knife or a gun actually came and tried to kill me, what would you do?"

Haruto glanced thoughtfully at his charge before pointing at the far wall of the bedroom where a calendar hung. It had a picture of a cat on it. Haruto gave Ryoma just enough time to follow his finger before flicking his wrist once.

Ryoma yelped when a thin knife was suddenly embedded in the cat's head, cut clean through the calendar and stuck to the wall. "...Did you  _have_  to kill the cat?"

Haruto shrugged. "It was an example. I wouldn't really kill cats. Unless they tried to kill you, in which case they'd be free game."

A long silence ensued as Haruto started compiling another profile for a second-year named Ibu Shinji.

"...Have you... killed anyone before?"

Haruto paused, finger hovering over the Enter key. Ryoma had clearly wanted the question to sound casual but it had come out forced instead.

He craned his head around to look at his charge. "Do you really want to know?"

Ryoma looked pensive but nodded.

Haruto nodded in return before turning back to the screen. "Yes, I have."

Another drawn-out silence descended. Haruto didn't particularly care. He had guarded kids before and they never could accept his 'killing at such a young age and not caring about it' attitude. Of course, there were a few who thought it was cool, right up until he ended up having to kill someone in front of them.

"Haruto."

"What, Ryoma?"

"If you have to, you have to," Ryoma said pragmatically, and Haruto stilled in surprise. "But while you're guarding me, don't go around killing anyone unless there's no other way. That's an order, understand?"

Haruto stayed silent for another heartbeat before snorting and turning to face his charge again. "What do you think I am – your butler? I've told you before: I work for your dad, not you.

"But," He sent a look of clear amusement at Ryoma before going back to work. "I never kill unless I have to. You don't have to order it, little lord."

Ryoma huffed with annoyance from behind him but the tension in the air dissipated.

Haruto smiled a bit as he worked. Ryoma really was a colossal softie at heart.

 

* * *

 

It was early yet and practice hadn't properly started so Sadaharu wandered over to the mysterious first-year he had been trying to figure out ever since he had met him.

"Akiyama," He started monotonously. He was good with science and he could usually get away with his social skills being interpreted as straightforward instead of awkward, but truth be told, even he knew he wasn't the best at carrying on a conversation that didn't include trading facts inside a lab.

Akiyama didn't seem to mind though and the first-year looked up and smiled at him. "Good morning, Inui-senpai." His gaze flickered upwards to Sadaharu's hair. "Ah, maybe we should've picked red after all. Your hair's almost the same."

Sadaharu saw this as an excellent opportunity to steer their exchange in the right direction. "Your first choice was not blue for the third-years?"

Akiyama waved a hand. "Nah, Fuji-senpai and I really wanted either red or pink to round out the set. You know, orange, yellow, and red, so we'd all match, but we decided to give Tezuka-senpai a break. Face it; he'd make a terrible redhead, and Eiji-senpai would stay exactly the same."

"And how did you manage it?" Sadaharu pressed. Fuji hadn't been able to tell him anything, claiming that the technical aspect had been Akiyama's department.

Akiyama considered him for a moment, green eyes narrowed. And then he smiled again and motioned for Sadaharu to sit. "I can tell you how I mixed the dye so that it only stuck to the fibres of human hair and not anything else, but not how all the devices activated at the same time or how the dye knew to give your history teacher an extra dose."

Sadaharu immediately nodded. That was more than he had expected. His hands itched to pull out his notebook but he didn't want Akiyama retracting his offer. Most people didn't like it when Sadaharu wrote in his notebooks and analyzed them.

But Akiyama only laughed. "You're gonna need your notebook for this, senpai. I don't mind."

That was all Sadaharu needed and he quickly whipped his trusty notebook out and flipped to a new page.

Akiyama leaned in. "Alright, let's start with the properties of human hair. It's a filamentous biomaterial mostly composed of protein so..."

Twenty minutes later, Tezuka had ordered Sadaharu back to practice and slapped ten laps on him but Sadaharu couldn't care less. His mind was still running through the formulae he and Akiyama had discussed and part of his brain wondered why the twelve-year-old was still in first-year middle school. He should at least be in third-year chemistry! Advanced!

Sadaharu had managed to pose this question right before Tezuka had marched up with a frown, but Akiyama had only smiled enigmatically and waved him away. It was clear the first-year wasn't going to answer.

"He's really something, isn't he?" Fuji asked as Sadaharu wrapped up his laps and headed towards an empty court with the genius.

Sadaharu nodded, expression bland even as his mind raced. There was more to Akiyama than what the first-year portrayed. And he wanted to find out everything.

 

* * *

 

"So are we gonna sneak Haru onto the bus again?" Eiji asked anxiously, one arm slung around said teen's shoulders. It was two weeks after The Second Prank and the Fudoumine match was coming up.

Oishi sighed. "Well, we'll have to, but we really can't keep sneaking him to games. We're going to get caught eventually."

"Can't he just sign on as the manager or something?" Ochibi suggested distractedly as he peered over Oishi's shoulder at the spreadsheet. "Senpai, put me down in Singles 2. I want to play their so-called genius."

Eiji smiled, both at the suggestion and at the way Ochibi was actively arguing with Oishi. Even a month ago, their prodigy would have just grunted and gone with the flow.

"That's a great idea!" Eiji cheered.

"That's a terrible idea," Haru corrected at once. "I don't know a thing about tennis!"

Eiji patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, you already know the rules, and the manager's job is to basically do what Oishi is doing right now."

They both watched the vice-captain yell at Kaidou and Momo who were tussling around on the ground and pulling at each other's hair, fists flying. At the same time, the third-year was holding both signup sheet and pencil out of Ochibi's reach, all while counting the number of extra water bottles Kawamura had just brought in for tomorrow's match against Fudoumine.

"You want me to do that," Haru deadpanned. "Are you crazy?"

Eiji grinned. "I'm sure you'll be fine, Haru. Tezuka-buchou! Haru wants to become the team manager!"

"What? No I don't! I never said that, senpai!"

"Haru's really pumped up for it! Sign him up, Buchou!"

" _Don't_  sign me up, Tezuka-senpai! Eiji-senpai's a lying contortionist!"

"WOULD ALL OF YOU BE QUIET?! STOP MESSING UP THE CLUBHOUSE!"

 

* * *

 

Half an hour of chaos and general mayhem later, Eiji was bouncing around happily while Oishi had dragged Haru aside to fill him in on his new duties.

"That was positively Fuji-like of you, senpai," Momo commented as he nursed a faint bruise on his head.

"Heehee, I've known Fujiko for a long time, nya!" Eiji grinned.

"Fshuuu, at least we won't have to smuggle him around anymore," Kaidou muttered, dabbing at his split lip.

Eiji eyed the pair of them. "What were you even fighting about?"

The two second-years glanced at each other before harrumphing and turning away.

"Don't remember," Momo finally admitted grudgingly.

Eiji sighed. His kouhais were definitely high maintenance.

"Oh I have that done too," Haru's voice was heard throughout the clubhouse when conversation died down simultaneously for a moment. "I got bored and thought I'd do a bit of research. Here."

A second later, Inui had all but hurtled across the room and Oishi was gaping at the files Haru was holding.

" _How_  did you find this?" Inui demanded as he seized the documents and started flipping through them. "You have their background information, height, weight, dominant hand, family members, grades,  _classroom number_..."

"Off the net," Haru explained, and then, just a little sheepish, "It's rather easy hacking into the school's database. Their firewalls need to be updated, seriously. And I might have swung by Fudoumine for a look at their team. I didn't stick around to watch them practice though."

Through his shock, Eiji caught Tezuka pinching the bridge of his nose before calling out, "Akiyama, please refrain from breaking the law from now on. The team doesn't need a criminal record to its name."

For a fraction of a heartbeat, Eiji thought Haru was going to refuse. The first-year had taken on a strange expression, sharp and calculating, and was staring at Tezuka as if he was either dangerously offended or clinically amused with the order. It was hard to tell, but it sent a shiver down Eiji's back anyway.

And then Eiji blinked and the look was gone, replaced by Haru's usual easygoing smile. "Sure, senpai. I promise I won't do it again. Unless it's an emergency."

Tezuka shook his head but abstained from lecturing some more.

Eiji wondered if Tezuka had seen that look too.

 

* * *

 

"Alright, as manager, you need to at least be able to serve!" Takeshi announced, ushering Akiyama onto the court.

"Says who?" Akiyama countered indignantly. "It's not like the manager needs to play or demonstrate how to swing a racket."

"Fshuuu, says us," Viper, for once, agreed. "It wouldn't do for the manager to not know how to hold a racket."

"I know how to hold a racket!" Akiyama protested as Takeshi pressed one of his own into the teen's hand. "Look, this is the Eastern Grip, and this... is the Western Grip. Ryoma showed me. Indirectly."

"Well good," Takeshi nodded in approval. "Now you just need to learn how to serve. Here, watch me."

He got into position, bounced the tennis ball twice, and then tossed it into the air and slammed it home across the court. "Like that. You try."

Akiyama released a long-suffering sigh but copied his stance. One serve later and all three of them watched the tennis ball thwack against the net and roll back towards them, stopping at Akiyama's feet.

"Fshuuu, that was a good try," Kaidou said gruffly. "Watch me this time. Peach Butt couldn't teach if his life depended on it."

Takeshi stomped down on the urge to plant his fist in the other second-year's face since Akiyama was already concentrating on the Viper's form.

But when the first-year tried again, this time, the ball went flying across the court and out of bounds, bouncing off the far gate with a metallic thunk.

"Hah! You're no better, Viper!" Takeshi jeered. "C'mon, Akiyama, it just takes practice. Try again."

 

* * *

 

Two hours and a countless number of serves later, the sun was steadily setting and the entire team of regulars had gathered around.

"Akiyama, you suck!" Momoshiro exclaimed, making a face. Oishi elbowed him in the ribs.

Kunimitsu mentally winced at his own observation. He had counted one hundred sixty-eight serves and  _none of them_  had hit the opposite side of the court.

Akiyama currently had an outrageous pout on his face and he was scowling at both Momoshiro and a smirking Echizen at the same time.

"You kind of do, Haruto," Echizen agreed. This time, he received a whack over the head from Oishi.

"Look who's talking!" Akiyama huffed, crossing his arms. "You suck at Sevens!"

This got a round of collective laughter from the team and Kunimitsu had to work to hide his own smile.

"You're the only one here who plays old-dude games, Akiyama," Momo snickered as Echizen snorted disdainfully. "But seriously, how is this even possible? You missed every single one!"

Akiyama grumbled and handed back the racket. "I give up. Tennis is beyond me. I'll manage your water and snacks and keep the clubhouse clean and gather information for you, but no more of this. I'll watch you guys play instead."

Kunimitsu watched as his team crowded the first-year, Momoshiro still teasing the boy about it, Kaidou and Inui suppressing amused smiles, Kawamura and Oishi working to cheer Akiyama up, Eiji chattering on about something or other to take the teen's mind off of the abysmal serves as Fuji added his own comments now and then, and Echizen falling into step beside Haruto, showing him the wrist motion for a Twist Serve once more.

He recalled the earlier flash of... something in those startlingly green eyes that had made him stiffen and almost step back.

He looked at them now and speculated whether or not he had imagined it.

He observed the way his team easily welcomed Akiyama into their midst and wondered how it was possible for all of them to gather around a first-year who didn't even know how to play tennis.

"Senpai!"

Kunimitsu blinked and arched a questioning eyebrow at Akiyama currently flailing in the chokehold Momoshiro had put him in.

"Senpai, tell them to back off with the tennis lessons and I'll buy you dinner!" The first-year pleaded as he grappled with Momoshiro.

Kunimitsu studied the two. He had no doubt Akiyama could detach himself perfectly fine. The laps from yesterday and his acrobatics atop the metal fence around the courts proved the boy's affinity with martial arts.

"Seenpaaii!"

Kunimitsu sighed. "Momoshiro, let him go. The rest of you, that's enough for today. Akiyama, you'll be paying for my sushi."

Akiyama grinned at him, perhaps a bit too happily for someone who would be spending twice the amount of his money in a short while.

"Yay!" Eiji glomped both Echizen and Akiyama. "We're going to Kawamura Sushi for dinner!"

"Saa, then I'll pay for you, Akiyama."

"Sure, senpai. We can play another prank together."

Groans filled the air and Kunimitsu was torn between wanting to laugh and groan with the others as they spread out to collect the wayward tennis balls before heading to dinner.

Well, life could definitely be worse.

 

* * *

 

Haruto's eyes widened behind the camcorder he had brought to tape the games when Fuji pulled off one of his rumoured Triple Counters. "That's Tsubame Gaeshi?"

"Aa, impressive, isn't it?" Oishi smiled from his right. "Fuji isn't known as a genius for nothing. He utilizes the opponent's topspin by returning the ball with an extreme slice that doubles the amount of spin. The slice combines with the topspin and causes the ball to dip toward the ground and continue rolling across the court without a bounce."

Haruto sat back, pencil tapping idly against the clipboard he was holding as he adjusted the height of the video camera stand beside him. "Well, I wouldn't know about that, but he should really work on strengthening his wrists."

Oishi blinked at him. "What do you mean?"

Haruto smiled lazily. "I don't know tennis, but I do know how to read the flow of a match. That guy over there, Ishida Tetsu, is just desperate enough to do anything to seal it. He obviously depends largely on his strength. Physically, Fuji isn't a match for him."

He observed the players' expressions and movements for a minute before nodding at Kawamura. "Kawamura's seen it too."

Oishi only had time to turn back to the match and stare with increasing distress as Ishida executed a Hadokyu that headed straight for Fuji.

Half a second before Fuji would've caught it on his racket and most likely broken a wrist, Kawamura cut in, teeth gritted and brow furrowed as his arms strained to return the shot.

Momo and Eiji let out a whoop as the Hadokyu was successfully returned but Haruto stood and stepped up beside Tezuka. "Senpai, pull them out. Kawamura-senpai's wrist has been sprained."

Tezuka glanced down at him for a moment before turning his gaze back to the doubles team. Fuji was whispering urgently to Kawamura and the taller third-year was definitely holding his wrist rather stiffly.

Tezuka nodded curtly. "Fuji, Kawamura, forfeit the game."

Kawamura looked like he wanted to protest but a sharp look from the captain stayed his complaints and his shoulders drooped as Fuji accompanied him off the court.

Haruto brushed aside the faint air of disappointment on the benches and briskly hurried forward to meet Kawamura with an icepack. "Alright, no moping, senpai. Ice that wrist until we can get you to a clinic. I suppose you want to stay and watch? Come on, sit down. Here's a towel and some water. Fuji-senpai, same for you.

"Now, that shot used at least one hundred and ten percent of Ishida-san's arm strength but that's all I got from it. I'm sure Inui-senpai is already compiling a training menu for it so you'll just have to work hard and pay him back the next time you play."

The team was silent as Kawamura stared at him with wide eyes. Haruto had learned early on that assailing someone with an onslaught of various instructions and advice tended to knock them out of whatever funk they were beginning to fall into. Most of the time, it worked like a charm.

"Uh, right," Kawamura finally nodded uncertainly but the tension in his shoulders were gone and a tentative smile tilted his lips when Eiji bounded over and swung an arm around his shoulders.

"Haru's right! Besides, me and Oishi will kick their asses next! You can count on us!"

"Eiji, language," Oishi scolded, but spared a warm smile for Kawamura. "We've got this; don't worry. You did everyone a favour by stepping in like that."

"That shot would've broken my wrists if you hadn't gotten in its way," Fuji agreed with a soft smile. "Thanks for that."

"And I've gotten some good data from that shot and your counter," Inui interjected. "We will begin a new regimen for you as soon as your wrist heals."

Haruto smiled in satisfaction as he turned away to busy himself with writing down the score. That was better.

 

* * *

 

"Looks like we struck gold when it came to getting a manager," Sumire mused as she observed the team interactions with a fond eye. "And here I thought we just signed Akiyama on so we wouldn't have to smuggle him to our matches."

Tezuka nodded. "That was our original plan but Akiyama seems to be holding his own quite well."

"Good," Sumire nodded in approval. "Our workload will be evened out a bit with Akiyama here as well. And it helps that he already feels like part of the team."

 

* * *

 

Crack!

Haruto felt the pencil in his hand snap even as he flicked out a spark of magic to marginally adjust the trajectory of the broken racket as it flew towards his charge's eye. At the same time, he twitched a finger and subtly tugged Ryoma to the left to move him out of the way. The racket still skimmed him but the boy ended up with a shallow cut to his temple instead of an eye injury.

The rest of the team flocked around Ryoma as he came back to exchange his racket, so Haruto took this time to grab another pencil and privately survey Ibu Shinji still standing at his end of the court. The second-year looked a little guilty though it was covered up well enough, and he was tracking the first-aid procedure going on around Ryoma with careful eyes.

Not a threat then. Just an accident. Haruto would probably feel slightly bad if he needed to confront someone so young about deliberate foul play because they had been paid off to injure his charge by some asshole coming after Ryoma.

 

* * *

 

"Ne, Haruto."

"Hmm?"

"...This sounds weird but did you... do something during my match? When my racket bounced back at me?"

Ryoma studied his bodyguard carefully as they walked home. Haruto didn't tense up or lose the languid stride and posture that practically defined the teen's overall laidback character.

"My job is to protect you, Ryo-kun," Haruto smiled at him, green eyes glittering. "Using whatever means necessary. That's all you need to know."

They continued the rest of the way home in silence, Ryoma accepting the rebuff reluctantly. He recalled the slight tug that had moved him out of the way of the racket. How in the world had Haruto pulled that off when he had been sitting on the bench?

 

* * *

 

Over the course of the next few victories, Haruto began spotting spies from different schools congregating around Seigaku. That simply wouldn't do so, true to being Seigaku's team manager, Haruto retaliated with a ruthless number of pranks. By the end of week one, the spies had fled the school, half-naked and covered with feathers. By the end of week two, any survivors that had come back for more admitted defeat when they found their faces splotchy with green polka dots, a piece of paper that said 'I AM A SPY – KICK ME OUT' always,  _always_  taped to their backs no matter how many times they ripped it off, and never being able to walk anywhere around Seigaku without tripping every few steps over seemingly nothing.

Every one of them agreed: Seigaku was a deathtrap.

"I don't know how you’re doing it," Ryuuzaki-sensei had said one day, clapping Akiyama on the shoulder as they watched a non-Seigaku student run away screaming. "But make sure you keep doing it."

Haruto had grinned and saluted. He would've signed up for the position of manager at the beginning of the semester if he had known it would be this much fun.

 


	6. Crescendo

 

"Ryoma, do you mind taking Sakuno to get her racket strings fixed?"

Ryoma took one look at the fidgeting girl with the perpetual blush on her face and her eyes glued to the ground and immediately wanted to say yes, he would mind, but Ryuuzaki-sensei wasn't finished.

"It's perfect timing actually," The coach continued. "I've given Akiyama a list of things to buy to stock up on the club's tennis supplies so he'll be going with you. God knows you two are inseparable."

Ryoma was now torn between feeling relieved that he wouldn't have to go alone and feeling the need to curse Haruto out for not giving him an excuse to stay behind.

He didn't have time to think more on it when Haruto came bounding up, what looked like a shopping list in one hand and his bag in the other. "Ryoma, ready to go?"

Ryoma stifled a sigh and nodded dully. He had been hoping to play more tennis today. In fact, he had been thinking of asking his captain for a match. He wanted to know how strong Tezuka was.

"And Ryuuzaki-chan is coming too, right?" Haruto smiled amicably at the brown-haired girl who blushed even more as she nodded timidly. Ryoma spared a moment to thank whichever deity was watching over them for his bodyguard's natural ability to get along with everyone.

Ten minutes later, they were en route to the nearest sports store, Ryoma walking on Haruto's right while Ryuuzaki walked on his bodyguard's left.

"So you're just starting tennis?" Haruto was asking.

Ryuuzaki nodded, fingers tangling nervously in the strap of her bag. "Y- Yes, I recently became interested in it because..."

She blushed again and glanced at Ryoma, who couldn't, for the life of him, understand why. Maybe she wanted him to join in the conversation? Fat chance. He didn't even know what to say.

"And how is that coming along?" Haruto enquired. "You've joined the Girls' Tennis Club, right?"

Ryuuzaki nodded again. "I- I'm really just starting so even learning how to swing my racket correctly i- is a bit difficult."

"Heh, better than me at least," Haruto grinned ruefully. "I am absolutely terrible at tennis."

Ryuuzaki was quick to sputter a feeble protest. "I- I'm sure you're not that bad!"

Haruto smiled. "Oh, you'd be surprised. I'm good at other things though so it's okay."

Ryuuzaki smiled back uncertainly before glancing at Ryoma again. Hastily, to avoid having to think of something to talk about, he motioned ahead. "There's the shop."

Haruto brightened, digging out the shopping list again. "Oh good, I can get started on this stuff then. Tape, bandages, a new tube of tennis balls... Right, I'll go ahead and grab this stuff. Ryoma, make sure Ryuuzaki-chan doesn't get ripped off or something, okay?"

And before Ryoma could call him back, his bodyguard had waved and headed inside the shop, leaving him with Ryuuzaki and an awkward silence hanging in the air.

Wonderful.

"S- So Ryoma-kun really likes tennis?" Ryuuzaki stammered out as Ryoma kept a sharp eye on the man fixing the girl's racket strings.

"Yes," Ryoma answered bluntly. Good, if she was just going to ask yes or no questions then he shouldn't run into any problems.

"A- Ah, of course you do," She smiled shakily at him. "U- Um, then what else do you like to do?"

Ryoma drew a blank. He liked tennis and... "Drinking Ponta. Playing with my cat."

Judging by the confused look on the girl's face, he had probably said something wrong, but it was the truth. He liked playing tennis, drinking grape Ponta, and he loved Karupin. Maybe she meant a more social hobby? Why did her questions have to be so annoying?

He glanced around the store, pausing to eye the man handling Ryuuzaki's racket before moving on to search for some sort of inspiration. His gaze landed on his bodyguard's back down one of the aisles.

"Hanging out with Haruto," Ryoma said truthfully. The other teen made Ryoma consider homicide – or suicide for that matter – whenever he did something crazy but Haruto was still fun to be around.

"O- Oh," Ryuuzaki didn't look like she knew how to proceed and the atmosphere quickly became uncomfortable again. Ryoma sighed, tugged down his cap, and did what he did best: ignore the situation. He did it often enough whenever someone he didn't know came up to him and tried to talk to him.

God, this day couldn't go any slower.

 

* * *

 

"A crush on the clueless boy," Haruto murmured to himself as he peered surreptitiously at the two teens standing by the counter. "How... cliché."

"Ah, leave them be. My boy's finally growing up!"

Haruto snorted but didn't turn to look as he searched for the right brand of head tape. "Stalking your son now, Nanjiroh-san? He won't be pleased if he sees you here."

"He hasn't seen me yet," The man himself stepped up beside him, still hidden from view as he leaned against a pillar. "And is it so bad to see my son out on his first date?"

Haruto finally picked out the right brand and tossed three of them into his basket before turning an amused eye on his employer. "You know it's not a date."

Nanjiroh grinned back good-naturedly. "Close enough."

The man reached over and plucked the grip Haruto had just picked up out of his hand before passing him a different one. "Buy this grip instead. It's a little more expensive but it's better than this one."

Haruto hummed thoughtfully, checked the club money he had been given, before nodding agreeably and tossing it into the basket.

"So how's the job coming along?"

Haruto arched an eyebrow at the question. "Well, seeing as Ryo-kun is still alive, I'd say I'm doing pretty well. There was only one attempt so far and he was an idiot working for a fan. I sent him packing before Ryoma even saw him."

Nanjiroh smiled, a hard edge shadowing the expression. "Good. Keep an extra eye out the next few days though."

Haruto picked up a tube of tennis balls, tossing it absently in the air as he glanced back at his employer. "Oh? Did something happen?"

Nanjiroh sighed. "I got a phone call from my other idiot son yesterday. From what little he told me, it seems that he's recently pissed off a small-time drug dealer but the bastard managed to trace Ryoga back to us. I doubt Rinko or I will be in any danger but there might be someone sent to hurt Ryoma if the drug dealer's the type to hold a grudge."

The man heaved another sigh, a trace of tired melancholy in it this time. "At least that brat was responsible enough to phone home about it."

Haruto watched him for a moment before returning to his shopping list. He hadn't dug too deeply into Ryoga's past but knew enough to understand the danger he posed to his family. He was reckless and foolish in his numerous undertakings and Haruto doubted the boy truly comprehended the extent of the backlash that his actions had on the people connected to him.

"Ryoma will be fine," Haruto said out loud as he tucked the list away and headed for the counter. "I guarantee it."

 

* * *

 

"You practically made her cry, Ryo-kun."

Ryoma scowled as he toed off his shoes and headed for his room, Haruto a step behind him. "I made it up to her. I taught her some tennis, didn't I?"

"Yes, she did seem rather elated with the tennis lesson," Haruto teased. "Spent more time looking at you than listening to your explanations."

"Tch," Ryoma dumped his bag on the ground by his desk before sprawling on his bed. "I don't understand girls. Why can't they find a hobby or something to obsess over?"

"You're her hobby, Ryo-kun," Haruto said cheerfully. "Think of it this way: ten years from now, you might be able to say that you started someone on a successful career in tennis."

"Why would I care?" Ryoma deadpanned. "Ten years from now, I probably won't even remember her."

"Well, I wouldn't know about that," Haruto had sat down on the floor, shrugging off his coat in the process. "Her grandmother's a good friend of your father and I doubt you'll fall out of contact with her anytime soon." Ryoma eyed the mischievous grin on his bodyguard's face warily as the black-haired teen said, "Who knows? Ryuuzaki-chan might even be your wife ten years down the road."

Ryoma mock-gagged. "I did not need to hear that. I don't want to get married."

Haruto shrugged, leaning back on his hands as he turned to stare out the window at the cloud-patterned sky. "You're saying that now, but just you wait. One day, you'll fall in love with someone, and even when they're driving you crazy, they're making you laugh, and just being with them will make you happy."

Ryoma stared hard at his bodyguard in the ensuing silence, the black-haired teen's profile bathed in sunlight. It was times like this that made him wonder if Haruto really was just a mere twelve-year-old who knew how to fight.

"Maa, enough of that," Haruto was grinning again. "What will you be doing this weekend? We don't have much homework."

Ryoma shrugged, accepting the change in subject without resistance. "I dunno. What do you want to do? We're always doing what I want but don't you have anything you want to do?"

Haruto looked surprised but only tilted his head back in thought. "Hmm, how about I teach you Bridge? Or we can play Sevens again."

Ryoma rolled his eyes. "We are not playing old-people games, Haruto. Pick something else."

Haruto huffed but the cheery glint in his eyes gave him away. "Shopping then? I want to poke around those little shops we pass by sometimes when we go out."

Ryoma grumbled half-heartedly. "The stores that look a hundred years old and have only survived that long because no one remembered to close them? Only you, Haruto."

Haruto grinned. "It's decided then. We'll head out tomorrow morning."

 

* * *

 

" _How_  did a simple outing gain two extra people?"

Syusuke smiled indulgently at the grumpy look Echizen was aiming back at him and Momo. "You and Akiyama bumped into me, Echizen. I had nothing better to do so I decided to come along."

"Yeah, and I just finished breakfast," Momo added, holding up a small bag of leftover pancakes. "I need to walk it off."

Echizen gave them both dirty looks before their attention was drawn a little ways ahead where Akiyama was waving at them. "Hurry up! Look what I found!"

"A bonsai? Seriously?" Echizen stared between the potted tree and Akiyama with a look of bewildered disbelief. Beside him, Momo looked just as confused. " _Why_?"

"The shape is cool!" Akiyama defended, delicately picking up the plant. "And I've never had one before."

Ryoma threw his hands in the air. "Whatever. You'll be taking care of it."

"Of course," Akiyama concurred, and swept towards the counter to pay for the tree.

One bonsai, a Japanese noh mask, a joker's hat, and a glass figurine of an owl later, Ryoma and Momo had scooted off to the fast-food restaurant across the street, claiming near-death hunger, while Syusuke, having generously offered to hold the bonsai for Akiyama earlier, followed behind his eccentric kouhai into another antique shop where old-fashioned cameras and camcorders were being sold.

"You really like unique things," Syusuke remarked as he perused the cameras on display. He had always been interested in photography.

Akiyama glanced up with a smile as he cradled a handheld old-style movie camera. "I get bored easily, senpai. Things like these keep me occupied. What do you think?"

The first-year held up the camera, one hand wrapped around the handle and the other supporting the weight of the device itself as he pretended to peer through it at Syusuke.

Syusuke smiled softly. "It suits you."

And it did. Akiyama carried the weight of the camera easily, his fingers deft as they ran over the apparatus, and even the shop owner had long since stopped hovering apprehensively nearby in fear of the first-year dropping anything.

"Great!" Akiyama beamed at him and turned towards the shopkeeper sitting behind the counter. "I'm going to buy it."

Twenty minutes later, Akiyama was filming an argument going on between Ryoma and Momo as they sat in the fast-food restaurant that the two aforementioned students had chosen. The shopkeeper had thrown in a roll of film for free, commenting about the lack of interest kids had these days in real treasures with a fond look in Akiyama's direction.

"Do you like photography, Akiyama?" Syusuke asked curiously as he tuned out the bickering coming from across the table.

"Mm, I've never thought about it actually," Akiyama said distractedly. "I've taken pictures and videos before of course, but it's never been something I actively enjoyed doing. Until now. This isn't so bad. Memories are priceless after all."

Syusuke silently observed the first-year, taking a sip from the chocolate milkshake he had ordered. Akiyama had sounded almost... wistful at the end.

"Maybe you should join the Photography Club," He suggested instead. "Being the team manager doesn't have to be a full-time job; Oishi's used to doing most of it anyway." He nodded at Akiyama's newest purchase. "They even have a couple of those lying around."

Akiyama shook his head as Syusuke had expected he would. "I agreed to manage your team, which means taking on all the duties it entails. I can't push it off on someone else. Besides, I don't like photography  _that_  much."

Syusuke hummed thoughtfully before leaning forward so that Akiyama could see him through the film-camera. " _Our_  team now, Akiyama."

A rare flash of genuine surprise flitted across his kouhai's features and Syusuke only regretted not being able to capture that on tape.

"Yes, I suppose so," Akiyama mused, recovering in the blink of an eye. "It's also my team now, isn't it? How strange."

Syusuke wanted to ask what was so strange about it but Echizen and Momo's fight over the last burger suddenly ended with Momo lunging for it with Echizen half a second behind him, and Syusuke had to save his milkshake before the two black holes knocked it over.

In the subsequent commotion during which he narrowed a warning gaze on both his teammates, Syusuke barely noticed Akiyama filming the entire exchange.

 

* * *

 

"Fine, I'll give you permission, but if you're going to do this, I'm afraid you're also going to need Akiyama's approval. The team manager is in charge of every player's health and wellbeing after all, and that includes old injuries and potential new ones in unofficial matches."

Kunimitsu stiffened a little at this. He had forgotten that the club now had a manager. Just the other day, Oishi had given Akiyama all the regulars' medical records and he had personally seen the first-year pouring over them with single-minded intensity.

"And if he says no," Kunimitsu started.

"Then it'll be a no," Ryuuzaki-sensei finished firmly. "You can try to convince him but he has the final say in this. And from what I've seen so far, that boy is very protective of Ryoma. You must have noticed – Ryoma never goes anywhere without Akiyama tagging along or at least staying nearby. A match between the two of you could help Ryoma overcome a major obstacle, but at the same time, it could cause quite a bit of psychological damage. He hasn't seriously lost to anyone besides his father in his life."

Kunimitsu nodded once. He had suspected as much, which was why this needed to be done. And if he was right about Echizen, then the first-year would only get stronger.

He paused, considering the woman for a moment. "As coach, you could order Akiyama to allow this match."

Ryuuzaki-sensei nodded, a slight smile surfacing on his features. "I could, but that wouldn't be fair. We decided not to sign him onto the team as a mere figurehead; he has his rights as our manager. Besides, I very much doubt Akiyama would be willing to take such an order lying down. He doesn't seem to be someone who would follow anyone's wishes save his own."

Kunimitsu had to concede this point, the chilly stare Akiyama had pinned him with in the clubhouse for a fraction of a second a few weeks ago flashing through his mind. He had reviewed that moment several dozen times already and knew that the first-year had reigned himself in immediately afterwards. What made Kunimitsu slightly uneasy was the fact that it hadn't been the rebellious nature of a teenager being told what to do that he had been faced with that day. It had been more of a detached sort of amusement, as if Akiyama had found Kunimitsu's  _attempt_ at ordering him about utterly laughable.

Nevertheless, he would have to try. "I will speak to Akiyama tomorrow."

 

* * *

 

"A match?"

Under that assessing green gaze, even Kunimitsu felt something akin to trepidation.

"Yes," He said stoically. The displeasure of having to explain himself to a first-year never even occurred to him. For all his playful antics, Akiyama never felt like a mere kouhai to him, though why that was, he had no idea. "I believe it would be beneficial to Echizen."

"Hmm," Akiyama tilted his head and studied Kunimitsu for a long minute before raising a hand, palm facing outwards. "Punch."

Kunimitsu blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Punch," Akiyama repeated. "With your left."

Kunimitsu stared, still blank-faced but completely baffled. "Akiyama-"

"Humour me, senpai," The boy said, a wry smile fluttering at the corners of his mouth.

Stifling a sigh and wondering why he seemed to 'humour' Akiyama nearly all the time since he had met the teen, he curled his left hand into a fist and, taking the time to remind himself that Akiyama knew martial arts and a half-assed punch would probably only result in the first-year telling him to do it again, Kunimitsu swung forward, smacking his fist into the open palm.

Not too hard, but a solid punch nonetheless. He wasn't even surprised when Akiyama's hand didn't give, catching the blow with practiced ease.

However, he  _was_  surprised when fingers curled gently around his loosened fist and another hand reached out to brush against the inside of his left elbow. He felt an odd tingle in the joint but it was gone in the time it took for him to glance down at his arm, leaving him unsure of whether or not he had really felt it.

Kunimitsu didn't know what Akiyama saw, but when the first-year looked up again, there was a level of certainty in his eyes that left no room for doubt. "You should be okay playing all-out against Ryoma this one time, but I'm sure you know the risks?"

Kunimitsu nodded, retracting his limb when Akiyama let go. "But it is necessary."

"Hmm, yes, I suppose it is," Akiyama agreed contemplatively. "Do be careful then. You can't reach the top hampered by an injury like that."

Kunimitsu was momentarily taken aback. That was it? "You are not worried about Echizen?"

Akiyama had already been turning away but he paused and looked back when Kunimitsu spoke. Features gilded gold in the glow of the sunset on the horizon, Kunimitsu could just make out the first-year's look of amusement. "Ryoma? Why should I be worried about him?"

He turned back fully, hands slipping into his pockets. "Where most people would stumble and come to a standstill when faced with something too difficult, Ryoma has the potential to grow. He's the type to take all the obstacles that stand in his way and turn it into his strength. You can see it too, can't you? That's part of the reason you're willing to chance your arm on him.  Besides, if a single defeat is enough to make Ryoma give up tennis for good, then that just goes to show he was never going to make it very far in this sport anyway, genius or no."  He shrugged almost carelessly, contradicting the weight in his gaze.  "Everyone loses.  It's how you handle losing that makes the difference between those who fall and those who'll keep on rising.  Ryoma will not fall."

Kunimitsu was quiet for a long moment. He thought back to Oishi's concerned cautions and Ryuuzaki-sensei's resigned warnings. Neither of them really saw what he saw in Echizen Ryoma, the true extent of his potential and the ability to thrive on new challenges. But it seemed that Akiyama did.

"There aren't many people like that in the world," Akiyama remarked almost absently. "A rare few indeed. And even those who have that strength forget it sooner or later."

Kunimitsu wasn't quite sure what to say to this. The first-year sounded much older all of a sudden.

When it seemed that their conversation was pretty much over, the first-year waved and turned to leave again. "I'll see you around then, senpai,"

"One more thing, Akiyama," Kunimitsu swiftly called after him. "Will you be going with Echizen when we have our match?"

Akiyama tipped his head back. "Do you want me to?"

Kunimitsu hesitated for a heartbeat. "I would prefer keeping it between myself and Echizen only."

Akiyama nodded once. "Then you won't see me there. Goodnight, senpai."

Kunimitsu watched the first-year leave before heading back inside the school.

Akiyama hadn't said he wouldn't be there.

 

* * *

 

"Going out, Ryoma?" Nanjiroh enquired without looking up from his magazine. His son was ten years too early to be giving him the slip if he wanted to sneak out without being noticed.

"...Yeah, I'll be back before dinner," Ryoma muttered, slipping on his shoes.

Nanjiroh did glance up then. "Isn't Haruto going with you?"

Ryoma huffed in annoyance. "I don't need a babysitter all the time; I'm just going out for a tennis match. Nothing's going to happen. I told Haruto to stay here."

And before Nanjiroh could say anything else, the boy had ducked out the door.

Nanjiroh stared after him for a long minute before taking a gulp of the beer he had in hand. "...You  _are_  going after him, right?"

"Of course," A tenor voice replied smoothly, and Nanjiroh choked on his drink when a twenty-something-year-old man with tousled black hair and bright green eyes appeared at the bottom of the stairs, adjusting the left cuff of a long-sleeved white shirt with an upturned collar. He was also wearing jeans, and a navy-blue coat was draped over one shoulder. The gold piercing in his left ear winked in the sunlight pouring through an open window.

"Well," Nanjiroh managed after a shocked few seconds. "You're going out in style."

Haruto chuckled, seemingly pulling a pair of dark-coloured shoes out of nowhere as he headed for the door. "Hardly. I just move more easily like this. Besides, this is how I usually dress when I'm not meeting a client or pretending to be too young or too old an age."

Nanjiroh peered curiously at the man. "So this is what you really look like?"

Haruto glanced into the hallway mirror as he shrugged on his coat. "Thereabouts, yes. Now I better get going. We'll be back by dinner, Nanjiroh-san."

Nanjiroh waved him off, idly tapping his magazine against his chin. Somehow, Haruto felt much more dangerous and yet equally harmless at this age than at the age of twelve.

 

* * *

 

Perched on top of a nearby rooftop, one leg dangling off the edge, Haruto observed the ongoing match from afar, his new movie camera filming the entire game. Truth be told, it was rather one-sided.

And thus, very boring.

Smothering a long-suffering sigh, he searched out Oishi again, who had no doubt followed Tezuka here. He had to give the boy props. Tezuka didn't seem to be someone who was unaware of his surroundings. Oishi must have had to be extra vigilant on his way here.

Other than the vice-captain though, no one else was around. The court was newly built and situated in a somewhat remote area. It was getting late as well so other students wouldn't come to such an out-of-the-way place to play.

He knew Tezuka wanted to keep this match private but Haruto wished that the captain had had the sense to play in a more public spot. Honestly, every Tom, Dick, and Harry out there could kidnap and/or kill all three boys and nobody would be any the wiser until it was too late.

Dragging both his attention and his camera back to the duel, he suppressed a heartfelt cheer when Tezuka called the end of the match, the captain still standing while Ryoma had fallen to one knee, panting hard and sweating profusely. Through the camera, he could see the frustrated anger written all over the first-year's face.

 _"Become Seigaku's pillar of support,"_  Tezuka's voice floated on the breeze, resolute and resounding.

Haruto arched an eyebrow. Was this what Tezuka was after? A protégé? Someone to help carry the team to the top? And someone to carry on Seigaku's legacy afterwards?

Before he could think more on it, the warning chime of the basic notification wards he had set up around the area sounded in his ear and Haruto was up and on his feet in the span of a heartbeat, video camera shut off, shrunken, and stowed away.

Strengthening the Notice-Me-Not Charm around him, he leapt silently from the rooftop, swinging down from a metal pipe and into a side alley. Following the pulse of magic that had attached itself to the newcomer the moment they had stepped through the wards.

Two minutes later, Haruto was standing in the shadows of a building and scrutinizing a broad-shouldered American male with short-cropped dark red hair and slate-grey eyes. He was wearing a brown coat and jeans, and his hands were tucked into his jacket pockets as his gaze focused on the tennis court up ahead.

And the relaxed but ready posture and the way the man's footsteps made no sound as he walked screamed hired gun at Haruto.

A thin smile curled his lips. His own gaze flicked over the assassin's shoulder at the three boys up ahead. Oishi had joined Tezuka by now, and though the vice-captain continued throwing worried glances back at Ryoma who was still on the court, he nodded at something Tezuka said and followed the captain out of the area.

Good. Haruto wouldn't have to worry about those two seeing anything.

The assassin kept his head down and continued walking even as Tezuka and Oishi passed him on their way to the subway station. Haruto knew the man would strike as soon as the two third-years left the general vicinity.

Keeping an eye on both of them until they were well on their way back home, Haruto quietly slipped away and Apparated three alleyways forward so that he would be able to intercept the assassin before the man could hurt Ryoma.

 

* * *

 

"Tezuka?"

Kunimitsu had stopped mid-stride and was now frowning more than usual. Oishi had paused several steps ahead, looking confused.

"Tezuka, is something wrong?"

Kunimitsu half-turned to look behind him at the distant figure they had passed a few minutes ago, almost out of sight now. "...Probably not. Did that man look familiar to you?"

Oishi blinked, following his line of sight. "Uh, no. I didn't even get a good look at his face."

Kunimitsu's frown deepened as the man turned a corner and disappeared from view. "I recognized the coat, and he's an American. I believe I saw him on my way here when I was riding the subway. He got off at the same stop I did as well."

Oishi stiffened, stepping up beside him. "You think he's following you? I was in the next car so I wouldn't have seen him."

"No, not me," Kunimitsu murmured, thinking harder. "He walked right past us. But Echizen is still..."

He trailed off but the same thought seemed to have struck Oishi because they were both racing back towards the tennis court as fast as they could in the next second.

Maybe giving Echizen some space after their match wasn't such a good idea after all.

 

* * *

 

Ryoma tightened his grip on his tennis bag until his knuckles turned white. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to hit something or just slam a tennis ball against a wall until it broke.

The loss stuck bitterly in his throat and he waited a minute longer before making his own way towards the subway station, taking the long way around through a few alleyways just to be sure he wouldn't catch up to his captain. He had no desire to be anywhere near Tezuka at the moment, not after that humiliating defeat.

Scowling down at the ground, he didn't notice the man approaching from the opposite direction and stumbled as they knocked shoulders when they walked past each other.

Mumbling an apology, he made to continue on, only to come to a halt when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. An irritable glare already glued on his face, Ryoma looked back and promptly froze.

The man's expression was cold as ice and Ryoma managed to catch a glimpse of metal before something hard pressed against his ribs. "Now then boy, why don't you come with me and no one gets hurt, yeah? My employer just wants a little payback for a stunt your big brother pulled."

Ryoma didn't dare move with what appeared to be a gun aimed at him, and all he could think of at the moment in a detached part of his mind that wasn't clouded with heart-pounding fear was his sheer stupidity for insisting that Haruto remain behind.

"Come on now," The assassin gave him a rough push forward and Ryoma reacted on instinct when the gun momentarily left his side. He bolted towards the nearest entrance of the alley he was in, but couldn't help chancing a fleeting glance back. When he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun aimed at him, he threw himself to the ground and rolled in a desperate attempt to avoid any oncoming bullets.

Two muffled cracks echoed behind him, hushed in a way that Ryoma almost didn't hear them. But he felt no blossoming pain and he was still alive so either the man had missed or...

His head snapped up. "Haruto-!"

And it was Haruto, but it wasn't the Haruto he was familiar with. This Haruto was at least five years older, maybe ten. It was unexpectedly hard to tell.

But it was still Haruto.

"Haruto-" He couldn't help the relief that thickened his voice as he scrambled shakily to his feet. The gunman looked to be out cold and was currently sprawled on the ground, gun a few feet away. "You followed me."

"Of course," Haruto replied tersely, still half facing away and keeping a sharp eye on the man. "Are you injured?"

"N- No, I'm fine," Ryoma assured weakly.

Haruto eyed him in visible disbelief but the teen – or man now – only nodded and moved away to crouch next to the fallen would-be kidnapper. "Your senpais are coming back now. Act as normal as you can. Don't tell them about me. Can you do that?"

Ryoma nodded forcefully, not wanting to voice the fact that he just wanted Haruto to stay with him and take him home. "B- But you look-"

"I'm not really twelve, Ryoma," Haruto interjected in a tone that seemed both gentle and firm at the same time. "You can ask your father about it. For now, head straight home. Do not stop anywhere. Get at least one of your senpais to walk you back, okay?"

Ryoma nodded one more time even as rapid footsteps reached his ears. He turned to look at the alleyway entrance and then glanced back, only to blink when he found it empty once again.

"Echizen!"

Ryoma only had time to look up before Oishi was bearing down on him, scolding him a mile a minute for being foolish enough to take back routes like these. Half a step behind him, Tezuka said nothing, but his face looked like a thunderstorm and his gaze flickered watchfully up and down the alleyway.

"Let's just get back onto a main road," Tezuka finally interrupted, cutting Oishi's tirade short, and Ryoma soon found himself escorted back out onto a busier street.

"Did you bump into an American wearing a brown coat?" Tezuka enquired once they were standing safely at a bus stop with cars zooming past and people walking along the sidewalk.

Ryoma took a deep breath to calm the last of his nerves and he pulled down his cap to hide his expression. "No. I didn't bump into anyone."

Ryoma knew they knew he was lying but neither of them called him out on it. His captain just studied him carefully and Oishi drew in a deep breath of his own before asking him what he would be doing now.

"I'm going home," He mumbled, the exhaustion from the match against Tezuka and his brief run-in with his almost-kidnapper setting in at last as any remaining adrenaline in his system ebbed. Actually, he wanted Haruto beside him, because no matter what age he was, his bodyguard just gave off a natural aura of security and Ryoma really would feel a lot better if the teen – man – was with him.

But Haruto was off doing God-only-knew-what to the asshole who had almost shot him and Ryoma had been ordered directly home. Disobeying was the last thing on his mind.

"We'll walk you home," Oishi offered, though the third-year didn't sound like he would be taking no for an answer. Tezuka nodded, and Ryoma was inwardly glad that he wouldn't have to ask.

Glancing back in the direction of the tennis court, Ryoma hoped Haruto would be okay.

 

* * *

 

Fuck, he hated getting shot.

With a grimace, Haruto nimbly summoned the bullet from his gut and banished it before conjuring some bandages and wrapping up the wound. For some fucked up reason that Death had never bothered explaining clearly, healing spells didn't work on him. They worked on others perfectly fine – he had just strengthened Tezuka's elbow a few days ago – but they didn't work on him. Something about being Master of Death and gaining his own accelerated regeneration but also cancelling out any magic that tried to do exactly the same thing. It was a stupid rule in his opinion.

He had been ready to intercept the assassin earlier but he hadn't expected Ryoma's bout of teenage angst and idiocy – which was a rather large oversight on his part – and he hadn't realized that his charge was taking a series of back alleys until the assassin was already trying to drag Ryoma away.

Haruto had managed to banish the second bullet but he had had to block the first. A quick stunner had taken out the gunman, who was currently petrified and unconscious in front of him, but the encounter had ended with Haruto injured.

He glared balefully at the comatose assassin for lack of anything better to do as he knotted his bandages. He had gotten careless; spending almost four months playing at being a mere middle-schooler had done him no favours. His instincts and reflexes were still as sharp as ever and his magic was more than strong enough to take down an army if he so wished, but he had relaxed too much lately. A part of him had enjoyed following Ryoma around and managing a team and spending time with the other regulars and just being _normal_ , so much that he had forgotten about some of the scum in the world who would harm a child just to get back at someone else.

It wouldn't happen again. He could continue pretending to be a normal twelve-year-old but he would be sure not to have too much fun. Just keeping an eye on such a troublesome brat like Ryoma wasn't going to be enough if his charge's brother was pissing off people who were willing to send trigger-happy bastards to kidnap children.

Pulling on his shirt once more, Haruto ignored the stinging pain in his side and stalked over to the assassin's side, double-checking that the silencer was disassembled and out of reach. A wordless Rennervate and, after a moment's consideration, Aguamenti later and the man was soon spluttering awake, his entire body still paralyzed from the neck down.

"Good evening," Haruto started in English once the man's eyes focused on him. He favoured the assassin with a humourless smile as he swept past his surface thoughts and dredged up the man's personal information. Hmm. Interesting. Not quite the cruel killer he had been expecting. "Had a nice nap, Mr. Kyle?"

Grey eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

Haruto tilted his head. "Who I am really isn't important. You should be more concerned about whether or not you'll live to see tomorrow."

A flutter of fear from the assassin's thoughts brushed Haruto's mind even as said assassin sneered up at him. "Is that supposed to scare me? You're barely out of diapers in this line of work. Don't talk about killing so easily."

Haruto chuckled, rocking back on his heels. He felt another flutter of fear. "That's rich, considering you're only twenty-three yourself. Mr. Kyle, let's drop the posturing. I already know all I need to know about you and your employer so let's skip to the part where I tell you what I want you to do and you, preferably, do as I say. I have dinner waiting on me tonight."

The man scoffed. "You can try."

Haruto sighed. "I hate prisoners who won't just  _talk_  and make my life easier. You haven't even heard my proposal yet."

Kyle glared, though there was a calculating gleam in his eyes. He said nothing, so Haruto continued with his monologue, just to bring home the trapped position Kyle was in.

"Lysander Kyle, age twenty-three, parents dead, one  _adopted_  sister, age eleven, paralyzed from the waist down due to a car accident – the same car accident that killed your parents two years back; you found your way around weapons after dropping out of university to take care of your sister, and is currently working as a gun-for-hire to pay Serafina's hospital bills."

Kyle had slowly paled as Haruto recounted his life story and the fear was more pronounced now, but the man's eyes also burned with a rising fury that hadn't been there before.

"I don't know how you found out but you stay away from my sister!" The assassin spat out.

Haruto arched an eyebrow. "Oh don't worry; I don't touch people unrelated to business, especially defenceless people. You can hardly say the same."

The self-disgust and shame that had been well-suppressed now spiked. Apparently, Lysander Kyle hadn't  _wanted_  to kidnap Ryoma but the money had been too good to pass up. Nobody who could fork over more than a few hundred would want to hire someone so young, at least until they could prove themselves.

"What do you want?" Kyle asked at last, sounding resigned. "You sound like you already know everything, and I doubt I'm going to get paid at this rate. You want the name of my employer?"

"I already have it – Benjamin Snyder," Haruto shook his head. "What kind of drug dealer has a name like Benjamin?"

Kyle didn't smile but Haruto just managed to pick up a flicker of sardonic amusement as he carefully pulled out of the man's mind.

"Alright, here's the deal," Haruto carried on briskly. "I let you go, give you the money for your sister's operation, and you stay the hell away from Echizen Ryoma and the rest of his family. And his friends. And hopefully, you'll stop taking jobs that include children in the future."

Kyle stared at him in clear disbelief. "Is this a joke? What, you're just gonna  _give_  me the money and let me walk away?"

"What were you expecting, torture and a change of employers?" Haruto snorted. "I can do that instead if you want."

Kyle hastily shook his head, the ruthless assassin persona he had been wearing all this time fast diminishing. "No, but-  _why_?"

Haruto shrugged. "I felt like it. And your sister's cute."

Kyle was instantly glaring again. "What's that supposed to mean, you pervert?!"

Haruto released another sigh. "She's a cute kid, is all. Doesn't know about this life of yours, does she? Would be a shame if you up and died on her."

Kyle's jaw tightened. Haruto shrugged and rose to his feet. "You'll be able to move in five minutes so go home. I'll wire the money to your bank account tonight."

"W- Wait! I don't- I don't take charity!"

"Consider it a business transaction then," Haruto suggested as he began walking away, scooping up the pieces of the silencer and tucking it away. He'd get rid of it later. "I'm paying you to stay away from my charge."

"...How the hell do you even know my account number?"

Haruto glanced back with genuine amusement this time. "Trade secret." His expression sobered. "Consider yourself warned, Mr. Kyle. Come after Echizen Ryoma again and I won't be so kind."

He stepped out into the night before Kyle could reply, grumbling under his breath, "Especially after you shot me."

Being caught off-guard and receiving a bullet wound aside, the whole thing could've been worse. He hadn't had to kill anyone, his charge was uninjured, and a little girl halfway around the world would get to walk again soon. Kyle was also a careful man. He hadn't given the drug dealer any of his personal information, and with a little luck, the bastard would think that Kyle was dead and wouldn't send someone else. If he did, Haruto would take care of it.

He paused to press a hand against his injury. He had gotten lucky with Lysander Kyle. Next time, the situation probably wouldn't be as easy to negotiate with words alone.

 

* * *

 

"Then we'll see you later. Say hello to Haruto for us."

Ryoma nodded stiffly, waited for them to turn and leave with minimal politeness, before sprinting inside, already shouting for his father. "Oyaji! Oyaji! There was this guy who attacked me and Haruto was there but he was older and-"

"Slow down, brat," His father appeared, a small but uncharacteristic frown on his face. "Yes, he's older than he appears. Yes, he can change his age at will. Yes, he went out after you. No, he's not back yet. Yes, he was expecting someone to attack you. Yes, I told him about it. No, neither of us considered telling you because you're too focused on tennis half the time and you should already know to be careful since your mother and I have told you as much dozens of times already. Does that answer all your immediate questions?"

Ryoma's tired mind struggled to comprehend all the rapid-fire answers.

"Where's Kaa-san and Nanako-san?" He finally settled on a simpler question as he sat down on the couch.

"Nanako-chan's sleeping over at a friend's," His dad reported succinctly. "And your mother's already asleep so be quiet. She has to get to work early tomorrow."

"Oh." He couldn't quite think of anything else to say.

"Well? Tell me about the guy who attacked you," Nanjiroh prompted impatiently.

Ryoma quickly summarized the events of the past five hours – had the tennis match really lasted so long? – and only paused when his old man jumped in to berate him for walking through a back alley of all things. Ryoma didn't complain. He knew he had been more than a little stupid.

"So about Haruto..." Ryoma probed when the conversation tailed off.

"Do you really think I would've hired an actual twelve-year-old to guard you?" Nanjiroh scoffed in response.

"Well how could I have guessed that he could change his  _age_  at will?" Ryoma protested indignantly.

"You couldn't; that's the whole point," His father pointed out smugly. "He's said to be good, one of the best. It took me quite a while to track him down and contact him."

"So he's like... an alien?" Ryoma immediately wished he hadn't said that when his dad burst out laughing.

"Alien?" Nanjiroh choked out between guffaws. "Well, I guess he might be. I wouldn't know. Just don't go spreading it around, alright?"

"I'm not an idiot," Ryoma retorted. "I won't mention it to anyone."

"Better for all of us," Nanjiroh nodded sagely. "He is undercover at the moment."

"And he's pretending to be a twelve-year-old attending middle school," Ryoma stated dubiously. "No wonder he's bored all the time."

"I don't know about that," Nanjiroh mused, scratching his chin. "He seems like he's having fun."

Ryoma had to agree with that. He wondered if Haruto had ever gone to school, normal school, and did normal things like he was doing now as a cover for his work.

"Go take a shower," Nanjiroh instructed. "I'll go microwave your dinner."

"What about Haruto?" Ryoma instantly demanded. A part of him thought he should probably be more concerned about the whole age-shifting thing than his bodyguard's wellbeing but it was a only small part. Haruto was Haruto, and if there was one thing Ryoma was good at besides tennis, it was to take things in stride without batting an eye. He lived with _Echizen Nanjiroh_ after all. His own father was weird on quite a few levels.

"He'll come back in his own time," Nanjiroh waved a dismissive hand at him. "Go. Your bodyguard's the last person you should be worried about right now."

Still disgruntled, Ryoma trudged towards the stairs, but when he glanced back, he saw his father standing by the window, peering through the curtains into the night with a pensive frown on his face.

 

* * *

 

"Finally," Nanjiroh said as soon as the front door slid open and a familiar figure slipped inside. "You missed dinner."

"Ah, sorry," There was a note of exhaustion in Haruto's voice that worried Nanjiroh. "I was talking to Ryoma's failed kidnapper."

"Talking?" Nanjiroh echoed, moving forward as Haruto toed off his shoes.

"Mm. His circumstances weren't as straightforward as I originally thought so I offered him a deal to make him go away. He's on his way home by now. I followed him until he bought his ticket and boarded the plane."

"...I see," Nanjiroh shook his head. "And he's really going to stay away?"

"Mm, I guarantee it. Where's Ryoma?"

Nanjiroh gestured at the stairs. "Fell asleep halfway through dinner so I put him to bed. That must've been one hell of a tennis match."

"More like one-sided. Tezuka thrashed him."

Nanjiroh hummed noncommittally as he squinted at Haruto. "...Are you alright?"

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?"

Nanjiroh shrugged, leaning against the wall. "Something feels off about you."

"...You tennis players have some crazy senses."

"So I'm right?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Nanjiroh glimpsed a ghost of a smile before the man headed for the stairs. "Just stick my dinner in the fridge please? I'm not all that hungry. Sorry for the trouble."

And before Nanjiroh could grill him some more, Haruto had disappeared, climbing the stairs on silent footsteps.

With a sigh, Nanjiroh headed back to the kitchen to wrap up the bodyguard's dinner. He wondered if he should have pointed out the fact that he could smell the copper tang of blood in the air.

 

* * *

 

"You're okay!" Ryoma couldn't hide his relief if his life depended on it when he saw a twelve-year-old Haruto sitting in the kitchen and reading the paper the next morning. "What happened?"

"I made a deal with the man and he agreed to go away," Haruto told him, smiling easily as if they hadn't been threatened and almost shot yesterday.

"And he's just going to stay away?" Ryoma blinked in bewilderment.

"Yup," Haruto nodded cheerfully, folding up the newspaper. "I gave him what he wanted."

Ryoma frowned. "Didn't he want to kidnap me?"

"Yes, to get what he wants, which I gave him," Haruto said vaguely before getting to his feet. "Basically, we skipped the part where you get kidnapped and settled everything without breaking any laws. Now, we've got school in an hour. You should change and get ready. Or are you going to mope about and skip instead?"

"I don't mope," Ryoma scowled. To be honest, the tennis match, while still setting his teeth on edge when he thought about it, didn't hurt as much anymore, especially after his narrow escape yesterday. And...

And he thought he might be starting to understand what Tezuka had been trying to teach him.

"Where's Oyaji?" Ryoma asked abruptly.

"Out back," Haruto studied him curiously. "Why?"

"I want to play him," Ryoma said as he headed for the back door. "I won't be going to school today."

Haruto didn't reply, or if he did, Ryoma didn't hear him, his mind already back on tennis again.

 

* * *

 

"Ochibi! Haru! You missed a day of school!"

Syusuke watched his long-time friend glomp the shorter of the two first-years as they gathered in the clubhouse.

"Eiji-senpai-! Can't- breathe-!"

"Eiji, let him go!"

"But Oishi, they were missing for an entire day!"

"Ryo-kun was too lazy to get his butt out of bed," Akiyama spoke up cheerfully as he stepped up beside Syusuke and hung his bag in the locker Ryuuzaki-sensei had assigned him. "And I didn't feel too well either so we both just stayed home."

Echizen glared at him but didn't deny it as he straightened his clothes.

"Well, it's good to see you both back," Syusuke interjected mildly before Eiji could launch into a pouting tantrum.

"Yeah, I waited forever yesterday before some monk came out and told me that neither of you were going to school," Momo complained, tying his shoelace. "Then Buchou sicced a dozen laps on me for being late!"

Kaidou smirked from beside him and a round of laughter resounded in the clubhouse.

"Time for practice," Tezuka ordered from the doorway as he poked his head in to see what the commotion was about.

The team began filing out and Syusuke busied himself with shedding his jacket as he waited for Akiyama to finish storing away his belongings.

Behind his partner, Eiji paused and then bounded over with a grin to give Akiyama a tight hug as well. "Welcome back, Haru!"

"Eiji, come on!"

"Coming!"

With a quick wave, the acrobat-player bounced out the door.

Syusuke barely noticed any of this. All his attention was focused on Akiyama instead.

For just a second, when Eiji had squeezed him, the first-year's breath had hitched and a minute flinch had wracked his body. Eiji hadn't detected anything, having let go soon enough when Oishi had called to him.

"Akiyama," Syusuke began slowly as he stared hard at the first-year's back. "Are you alright?"

Akiyama turned to face him with an easygoing smile. His features were unperturbed and there wasn't even a hint of pain anywhere. "Fine, senpai. Why wouldn't I be?"

Syusuke shook his head and followed the first-year out the door. Had he imagined it?

 

* * *

 

That had been close. Eiji's surprise hugs really weren't the best idea at the moment.

And it was just his luck that Seigaku's regulars were all made up of freaky genii. Sure, Fuji's IQ might be the highest, but even Kawamura and Kaidou and Momo were unnaturally gifted in their own right, never mind people like Tezuka and Inui.

Fuji was one of the most observant of the lot too and the third-year would undoubtedly be keeping an extra sharp eye on him.

Well, Haruto would just have to keep his guard up for a week or so. The bullet wound would definitely be gone by then.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks passed and Haruto managed to escape notice when it came to the injury hidden under his clothes. Fuji had given him a few suspicious looks but those had eventually gone away when Eiji inevitably gave him another hug and Haruto accepted it without faltering.

He spent the days coming up with new training menus with Inui, watering his bonsai, shooting different clips of the regulars eating, playing tennis, and everything in between, and, of course, keeping an eye on Ryoma. No hide or hair of any shady-looking characters came poking around so Haruto was sure that the danger had passed for now.

But, of course, middle school wouldn't be middle school without drama, and, two days after Ryuuzaki-sensei had announced that their next match would be against St. Rudolph Middle School and after he had ensured that Nanjiroh would be keeping Ryoma occupied for the next few hours, Haruto set out to the aforementioned school to get some information on the opposing team. He had managed to find out that St. Rudolph's regulars practiced on Sundays at around this time.

Not ten minutes after he had left his house, he found Fuji waiting for him at the nearest bus stop. The genius smiled when he caught sight of Haruto but there was a troubled edge to his expression.

"I thought you'd be doing surveillance today. Mind if I accompany you?"

Haruto blinked. He liked to think that he got on rather famously with Fuji – the third-year seemed to have an endless amount of patience when it came to Haruto's playful nature, even joining him on most days, and Haruto had become surprisingly fond of the genius so spending time with Fuji outside of school was nothing new. Yet there was a sense of grim purpose in the third-year's stance right now, and Haruto knew Fuji had sought him out for more reason than just hanging out.

"Why?" He enquired curiously as he stepped up beside the tennis player.

Fuji's eyes slitted open and a distant look settled on his features. "Saa, you could say that I'm somewhat... invested in St. Rudolph. Certainly more so than other schools."

 


	7. Irato

 

"Fuji Yuuta, age thirteen, previously attended Seigaku but transferred to St. Rudolph halfway through his first year. He moved away from home and is currently staying in the school's dormitories. Also known as the Southpaw Killer in the tennis circuits for his consecutive victories against left-handed players."

Syusuke eyed his kouhai speculatively as the bus headed towards their destination. "Have you been hacking again or are you stalking my brother?"

"Of course not," Akiyama looked indignant. "I promised Tezuka-senpai that I wouldn't anymore, and it's a waste of time to stalk someone just to find simple facts like those. No, I got that from listening to Inui-senpai and Eiji-senpai."

Syusuke hummed noncommittally, his shoulder knocking against Akiyama's when the bus took a sharp left. "Yes, both of them would know Yuuta. Eiji even knows him personally."

Akiyama cocked his head curiously. "Your brother plays tennis so wouldn't the others know him as well?"

Syusuke shrugged, glancing absently out the window at the passing scenery. "Yuuta didn't join the Seigaku Tennis Club. He trained with a hired coach instead."

"Why?"

Syusuke turned back to the first-year, studying the other teen closely. Part of him still couldn't figure out why he had chosen to accompany Akiyama today – Yuuta had made it plenty clear when he had moved out that he had no wish to clap eyes on Syusuke again anytime soon. But since he had decided to ignore his brother's wishes, maybe he should have brought Eiji along instead, or even Tezuka. At least the former knew of the split in Syusuke's family and the latter suspected. Akiyama didn't know anything.

"Saa, we don't really get along," Syusuke finally said, forcing a smile.

"So much that he isn't willing to join the same club as you?"

Syusuke's jaw tightened momentarily. Akiyama could be as blunt as Echizen sometimes.

"I guess it can kinda suck sometimes," Akiyama voiced mildly. "Being a genius."

Syusuke arched an enquiring eyebrow. "Oh?"

Akiyama tapped a finger against his temple. "I'm guessing... Yuuta-san feels somewhat overshadowed by his big brother so he moved to a different school to prove his own worth. Something like that?"

Syusuke stilled, glancing sidelong to his right. "I'm not sure what you mean."

Akiyama shrugged. "Senpai, you should look in the mirror sometime. That smile doesn't suit you at all."

Syusuke craned his head to the side, smile dropping. "...How did you know?"

Akiyama tilted his head back onto the headrest and stared up at the roof of the bus. "Mmm, I once had a friend. She was ridiculously smart – cleverest person I've ever known – and she could be very kind too, but she didn't have many friends, none at all until she met me and another boy. Mind you, I didn't have any either until I met her at the school we all went to. They're not the same cases of course, but they're similar at least. Genii stand out much more than average people. Others tend to be jealous and resentful."

Syusuke frowned even as he relaxed again. "'Once'? She is no longer your friend? Because you moved away?"

"Hmm? Ah, I'm afraid not," Akiyama smiled, but it rather reminded Syusuke of his own fake smiles that he normally wore. "She's gone now. Passed on."

Syusuke stiffened. "My condolences."

"Meh, it was a long time ago," Akiyama dismissed. Nevertheless, the atmosphere rapidly darkened into something more depressing.

Syusuke observed his kouhai carefully. It was rather odd. Akiyama talked about this friend as if they had known each other for decades, but the teen was only twelve.

"Sorry, that's not what I wanted to talk about now," Akiyama quirked a wry smile. "So then? What's this brother of yours like?"

Syusuke had half a mind to tell the first-year that he really wouldn't care if Akiyama suddenly decided to spill his entire life story. It was the first time that the other teen had offered anything from his past. Syusuke knew for a fact that not even Inui had found out much about their manager besides what everyone else in the school already knew.

"He used to follow me around all the time," He said instead. "We were very close. But as we grew up, I became more... well-known, for a number of things. People started referring to Yuuta as just my younger brother, even though he is talented in his own right in tennis. He's a lot angrier now, more hostile to the people around him." Syusuke offered a rare sardonic look. "Must be at that rebellious age."

Akiyama huffed a laugh. "So he wants to beat you in tennis then? That's why he went to a different school to join the tennis club there?"

"Yes," Syusuke thought of the teen who had recruited Yuuta in the first place and he had to fight down a sneer. "He was scouted."

"Ah, I heard about that too." Akiyama's brow furrowed in thought. "Mizuki Hajime, St. Rudolph Tennis Club's manager." He paused. "That sort of makes him my opponent, doesn't it?"

Syusuke hadn't thought of it that way but now that Akiyama had mentioned it, he was unexpectedly curious to see just what kind of adversary the first-year could make. He had never seen Akiyama compete before so Syusuke didn't know whether or not the teen would take a challenge seriously.

"Or maybe we could be friends," Akiyama mused, and Syusuke's entire being rebelled against this.

"I'd rather you stay away from him," He said stiffly, bristling at the very thought.

Akiyama glanced at him in surprise. "Do you not like him? Because he stole your brother away or because he has a nasty personality?"

"Both," Syusuke announced almost defiantly, gaze sliding to the front. "You'll see for yourself. We're here; let's go."

 

* * *

 

"Is  _this_  how you snuck into Fudoumine?"

Haruto grinned down at Fuji as he gave the third-year a hand up, pulling him over the wall and helping him balance on the thin railing. "Nah, Fudoumine's even easier to get into than St. Rudolph."

Fuji shook his head and then chuckled a little, exasperation and fondness etched on his face as he followed Haruto onto the roof of a nearby building. It was just close enough to jump onto from the wall they were balancing on. "If Tezuka ever finds out, we'll be running laps for days. Maybe weeks, depending on his mood."

"Then he just won't find out," Haruto said blithely as he pulled out a notebook and flipped to a blank page. "Now then, where are we?"

"One of the dorms, I think," Fuji peered around before glancing down at the notebook Haruto was holding. "...Are you sketching a map?"

"Well, I can't hack into the school database to get the blueprints anymore since Tezuka-senpai's so uptight, so I might as well draw it as we go," Haruto reasoned, quickly outlining the front gates, surrounding wall, and dormitory buildings.

"'Uptight'?" There was laughter in Fuji's voice. "He's just looking out for you. What would happen if you were caught?"

"I like living on the edge, senpai," Haruto flashed a smirk at the third-year. "And the first rule to doing so is to never get caught. And I never do."

"You're as cocky as Echizen, Akiyama."

"Nope, I'm just confident in my own abilities," He clambered onto his feet. "Where to now? You've been here before, right?"

Fuji nodded. "Yes, with my sister when she came to see that Yuuta was settling in alright. Although," He glanced around in amusement. "I can't say I've ever been on the roofs before."

Haruto grinned, quite pleased at how the day was turning out. "I'm corrupting you, senpai. Spending so much time with me could be detrimental to you."

Fuji's mouth tilted up into an unreadable smile. "I think I'm willing to chance it. This way."

Five minutes later, with Fuji giving directions and Haruto leading the way so that the third-year, who wasn't as prone to leaping large distances as he was, could easily traverse the roofs without being seen, they were standing on top of one of the school buildings overlooking the tennis courts.

"That one's Mizuki," Fuji pointed out almost immediately. Haruto followed his finger to a dark-haired teenager standing on the sidelines.

"I guess it would be unfair to tape them," Haruto mulled somewhat wistfully. And he had packed his movie-camera too.

"I didn't know you cared about that sort of thing," Fuji said, glancing over at him.

"I don't, usually," Haruto agreed, crouching near the edge of the roof. "But fair's fair. I've been doing nothing but chasing spies away from Seigaku since the Fudoumine match-up. It would make me something of a hypocrite if I did the same."

"Aren't we spying right now?" Fuji pointed out dryly.

"Well, yes," Haruto admitted. "But I'm also the team manager and part of my job is to- well, you know,  _manage_. By scouting out the other teams."

Fuji actually did laugh this time, a quiet sound that disappeared on a passing breeze. "You have a convoluted sense of logic, Akiyama."

"Whatever works," Haruto shrugged. "That's Yuuta-san over there, right?"

"Yes, that's him," Despite the animosity one held towards the other, Fuji's features were undeniably tinged with pride.

Over the next hour, Haruto managed to jot down all the names of the St. Rudolph regulars, each person's dominant hand, and whether they were most likely lined up for singles or doubles in the upcoming matches. Inui would be having a field day come tomorrow.

Just as he was about to call it a day, Fuji jerked forward abruptly, almost toppling over the edge of the roof they were sitting on. Haruto instinctively reached out and clamped a hand on his shoulder. "Senpai! Be careful!"

Fuji didn't seem to notice. "What the  _hell_  is he doing?"

Haruto followed his line of sight, enhancing his eyes with magic to get a better look. He had never heard Fuji so angry before.

"That's the Twist Spin Shot," Fuji said flatly, shoulder tense under Haruto's hand. "It has an enormous amount of violent spin. He shouldn't be learning that!"

Haruto hadn't the faintest idea what this Twisty Spinning Shot was but he could see the younger Fuji sibling's arm muscles straining in a way that, if not fixed or stopped, would one day destroy the boy's shoulder.

They watched as Mizuki stepped forward, smirking with satisfaction, and Haruto could feel Fuji's muscles flex. One glance to the side at darkened blue orbs told him everything he had to know.

"Get him back during the match, senpai," Haruto said calmly, not so much as batting an eye when the third-year's sharp blue gaze pierced him.

"He's hurting him!" Fuji hissed. "More importantly, he's hurting  _my_  brother!"

"I understand that," Haruto continued evenly. "But Yuuta-san isn't in any immediate danger. His shoulder will ache and he might risk a sprain but there won't be any long-term damage between now and our matchup. I guarantee it."

"But-"

"And if you rush in there going all overprotective big brother on Yuuta-san, he isn't likely to thank you for it," Haruto forged on relentlessly. "Teach him through tennis. You tennis players do that all the time, don't you? This is a choice that your brother made, to learn this shot no matter the consequences. He wants to show you that he's grown stronger and he's doing that through tennis. If you want to show him that the way he's going about it is wrong, then do it  _through tennis_."

His hand tightened on Fuji's shoulder when it looked like the third-year was going to continue protesting. "Come on senpai, I've never taken you for someone who charges in half-cocked.  _Think_."

Fuji froze, lips thinning into a grim line. He stared unblinkingly at Haruto before turning to glower at the tennis courts again, and then looking back at Haruto once more. Gradually, the fire blazing in Fuji's eyes cooled.

"He's in no immediate danger?" The third-year finally asked.

"I guarantee it," Haruto repeated.

Fuji closed his eyes and sighed. "Alright then. Let's head back."

Haruto released him with an inward huff of relief. It seemed even Fuji could lose his head when it came to his brother. As they started back the way they had come, Haruto wondered what would make Tezuka's self-control slip.

"Thank you for that," Fuji told him when they were on the bus and halfway home. "Yuuta would never have forgiven me if I had stormed the court."

Haruto glanced sidelong at him. "No problem. Everyone gets angry when they're properly provoked."

"You don't," Fuji remarked lightly.

Haruto's mouth twisted into a semblance of a smile. "Oh, you'd be surprised. I don't get angry often but someone once told me that I had one of the scariest tempers they had ever seen."

"Hmm, then maybe you'd like to blow up at Mizuki sometime," Fuji looked unrepentantly hopeful.

Haruto chuckled as the bus pulled up at their destination and they headed for the folding doors. "I'll think about it."

They walked down the sidewalk in a companionable silence, but just as they reached the end of a block where Haruto would be turning up the street and Fuji would be turning down, the third-year shifted to face him fully with a peculiarly intent sort of fascination.

"Back when we were heading to St. Rudolph, you mentioned two friends," Fuji started quietly. "One of them has passed-"

"Two," Haruto interrupted smoothly. He knew the third-year had been curious about his past since he had brought it up on the bus ride. "Both of them are gone now."

Fuji eyed him for a long moment. He didn't apologize this time, didn't commiserate, for which Haruto was grateful.

"We went to school together," Haruto offered, idly waving at the old lady who ran the teashop he always frequented nowadays. The woman waved back, smiling warmly at him. "In Scotland, not the States. We were good friends for a good long while. I've long since accepted their deaths though. It was nothing I wasn't expecting."

"...You're the strangest person I've ever met," Fuji said at last. "I really don't know what to make of you. Most twelve-year-olds don't... well, they tend to tear up when talking about close friends or family dying."

Haruto gave a half-shrug and a crooked smile. "I guess I'm just strange then. See you tomorrow at school, Fuji-senpai."

Fuji nodded, raising a hand in farewell before they parted to make their own way home.

 

* * *

 

"Is it just me, or is Fujiko practicing harder than usual today?" Eiji enquired as he followed his long-time friend's progress. Fujiko wasn't going all-out – he never did – but he had whipped out his Counters and was currently thrashing two second-years in a match.

Oishi, lobbing balls at Eiji so that the redhead could practice his accuracy by returning them into the basket at Oishi's feet, glanced over as well. "Yeah, I guess he does seem more... enthusiastic today."

Eiji frowned. Enthusiastic wasn't how he would describe the other teen. Fujiko seemed almost... angry today. There was definitely some annoyance straining his signature smile. Had the second-years he was playing – who both looked terrified out of their minds – done something to irritate the genius?

"Eiji-senpai, Oishi-senpai, don't stop practicing or Tezuka-senpai will assign you laps!"

Eiji winced at their manager's warning and speedily swung at a hastily-served tennis ball Oishi sent his way. Haru took his duties seriously, that was for sure. Tezuka didn't even have to assign as many laps nowadays since Haru kept everyone focused. While only a first-year, the younger teen's charisma had seemingly charmed the entire club, so much that most of the members did as they were told when Haru instructed them alongside Inui. The few students who had dared to scoff at him had quickly been quelled by a stern look from Tezuka, a flash of blue eyes from Fujiko, juice waved in their faces by Inui, or a threatening crack of the knuckles from Kaidou or Momo.

The funniest thing was probably the tiny fact that Haru could take care of himself perfectly fine.

Glancing one more time at the fierce ongoing match – and sparing a moment of pity for the two second-years who looked torn between begging for mercy and running away as balls blazed past them – Eiji focused back onto his own practice. Fujiko would calm down in his own time.

 

* * *

 

"Oh? Seigaku acquired a team manager?" Hajime absently wrapped a strand of his hair around one finger as he scrolled down the Tennis Club section in the Seigaku's school website. "And a first-year at that."

"Does that matter, senpai?"

Hajime glanced up at the newest addition to his regulars. "Not in the long-run, no. Still, Seigaku isn't a team that would take on just anyone to run their club."

He studied the screen for a moment longer before smirking and getting to his feet. "Yuuta, how do you feel about visiting your brother? Make him nervous about your upcoming match? I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

 

* * *

 

Haruto blinked and almost stumbled when Fuji seemingly materialized beside him in a rush of subtle almost-panic and urgency, dropping a hand on his shoulder with a conflicted expression on his face.

"Fujiko, what's wrong?" Eiji called from the other side of the room where he was in the process of pulling on a shirt.

There was something tense in the line of the genius' jaw but he did manage a smile. "Nothing, Eiji. There is the small matter of two of St. Rudolph's regulars at the Seigaku gates though."

This made everyone pull up short. Tezuka frowned. "Have they come inside?"

Fuji shook his head before glancing back at Haruto. "No. One is their manager. The other is... my brother."

Haruto tilted his head as a wave of murmurs swept over the room's occupants. Did Fuji want him to act as something of a buffer for him?

He slung his bag over his shoulder and nodded, and something in the third-year's face relaxed. Without a word, he followed Fuji towards the door, only pausing to glance back at Ryoma.

"Ryoma, meet us at the gates in ten minutes, okay?" Haruto waited for his charge's mildly curious nod before continuing on his way.

Just before the door swung shut behind them, Haruto heard Inui's thoughtful assessment of, "Ninety-seven percent chance that Fuji believes Akiyama is able to play mediator between him and his brother."

 

* * *

 

"Saa, Yuuta, what a surprise."

Yuuta stiffened automatically as his eyes landed on his brother, that damn fake smile already plastered over the older teen's face.

Surprise his ass. Syuusuke had probably already known he was here and was plotting something. His brother had always disliked Mizuki, but he disliked Yuuta hanging out with Mizuki even more.

"As if," Yuuta sneered and turned his attention on the kid who was walking a step behind his brother. Black hair, green eyes, first-year by the size of him, and foreign to boot – this was definitely the Tennis Club manager.

Good – they wouldn't have to stay long.

He glanced to the side as Mizuki stepped forward, a sly smirk already playing on his lips.

"Fuji-san, it has been a while," The third-year started graciously.

If Yuuta didn't know his brother so well, he would have missed the tiny derisive curl of Syuusuke's lip. Fury snapped in his chest but he reeled it back with some effort.

"Quite," His brother said, before markedly dismissing Mizuki's presence and turning back to Yuuta. "Did you need something, Yuuta?"

Yuuta gritted his teeth and scowled. Did his brother have to sound so disinterested? As if he was wasting his older brother's time just by showing up?

"Actually, since the matchup between our two schools is coming up," Mizuki stepped in again, a charming smile on his face. "I was hoping to pass on my regards to Seigaku's new Tennis Club manager. As one manager to another."

Yuuta frowned when he caught the slightest flicker of displeasure dart across his brother's features. What, this of all things finally caught Syuusuke's attention?

"I highly doubt that," His brother said, and while Syuusuke's voice was still deceptively friendly, his eyes had slitted open at last and they glittered dangerously in the afternoon sun.

Yuuta shifted uneasily. This side of his brother never boded well for anyone, least of all Mizuki who seemed to be the only person in the entire world who could rile Syuusuke up without even trying (something Yuuta was vindictively satisfied to know), but this also placed Mizuki on Syuusuke's bad side, and no one wanted to be there on a good day. Maybe he should try convincing his teammate and manager to come back another day when Syuusuke wasn't around or at least had had some time to calm down. Then again, he didn't want to give his brother the impression that he was running away.

And then the other boy was stepping forward, Akiyama Something-or-Other, and the younger teen laid a hand on Syuusuke's arm, the gesture brief and light, and Yuuta's brother-

His brother  _calmed the fuck down_.

Yuuta stared, barely keeping himself from gaping. Syuusuke still looked immensely dissatisfied but his eyes had closed again, and though he didn't move, there was an air of _backing down_  around him.

For as long as Yuuta had known him, Fuji Syuusuke had never once backed down after he had someone in his sights to crucify.

He turned his focus on the black-haired first-year. Who the hell was this guy?

"Akiyama Haruto," The boy held out a slender hand in Mizuki's direction, an amicable smile on his face. Yuuta couldn't detect anything fake in it. "Manager of Seigaku's Tennis Club. It's nice to meet you."

Mizuki's smile curved into a smirk again as he shook the proffered hand. "Mizuki Hajime, Manager of St. Rudolph's Tennis Club. Nice to meet you as well."

They let go and Mizuki continued with a crafty glint in his eyes, "When I heard Seigaku had gained a new manager, I just had to come meet him. You must be very good – Seigaku hasn't had an actual manager in half a decade."

"Ah, well, I can't say I'm very good," Akiyama said somewhat sheepishly. "I have absolutely no skill in tennis, but I am alright at writing up training menus, and Inui-senpai helps me out with that."

A guy who couldn't even play tennis was managing Seigaku's Tennis Club? That couldn't be right.

Yuuta snuck a surreptitious look in his brother's direction. Syuusuke was watching the exchange between the two managers like a hawk but made no move to interrupt.

"Well, I'd be happy to give you a few pointers," Mizuki offered with uncharacteristic generosity, and Yuuta's gaze snapped back to his senpai. "Perhaps we could meet up in the next few days before our two schools compete next Monday."

Akiyama's smile widened, practically oozing delight, and Yuuta finally realized that the battle between them had long since started, probably from the moment the two managers had laid eyes on each other.

"That sounds great," Akiyama accepted readily. "I'm pretty busy with the team and all but I can take some time off on Saturday and meet you for lunch."

Mizuki's smirk gained an edge that somewhat alarmed Yuuta. "Perfect. I can bus here again easily enough. Yokozawa Café on Takeshita at noon?"

Akiyama nodded pleasantly. "I'll see you there, Mizuki-san."

And before Yuuta could really wrap his mind around the impromptu lunch date-but-not-date, Mizuki had already said a swift farewell to a narrow-eyed Syuusuke before ushering Yuuta away.

"What the hell was that?" Yuuta asked in bewilderment as they rounded a corner.

Mizuki chuckled darkly. "That, Yuuta, was an invitation to war."

 

* * *

 

"What was that?" Syuusuke demanded the moment he was sure both his brother and Mizuki were out of earshot. "I told you to stay away from him and then you go and make lunch plans with him?"

Seething inside and not quite sure whether it was directed at Mizuki or Mizuki  _and_  Akiyama (because Mizuki was a given), he watched his kouhai's smile slide away like water, a more speculative expression taking its place.

"Senpai, calm down," Akiyama said equably, only irritating Syuusuke even further. "You really lose your head around Mizuki-san, don't you?"

Syuusuke swallowed the harsh retort at the tip of his tongue. He'd regret it later – Akiyama was a friend, not to mention the first-year could probably return any and all cutting remarks tenfold. Instead, he mentally calmed his thoughts and reigned in the automatic fury that always welled up inside him whenever he saw Yuuta with that damn manager.

"What was that?" He repeated, less ruffled this time. "I warned you about Mizuki."

Akiyama arched an eyebrow. "You really think I'd be stupid enough to let him worm anything about your team out of me?"

"Our team," Syuusuke corrected mechanically. "And no, I don't, but he's not above hurting someone to reach his goal. You  _know_  what he's doing to Yuuta."

Akiyama had the gall to laugh. "Trust me, Fuji-senpai, he's not going to be twisting my arm to get anything, figuratively or literally."

Syuusuke fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "They  _why_  did you agree?"

Akiyama smiled winningly at him. Syuusuke could feel a migraine coming on. He wondered if this was how Tezuka felt whenever the first-year batted innocent puppy-dog eyes at the captain after another one of his successfully humiliating pranks that put half the Tennis Club out of commission.

"It's just lunch, senpai," Akiyama declared evasively. "And I've heard good things about that café."

Syuusuke sighed. The only thing that could be worse was if Akiyama actually went through with his previous suggestion and became  _friends_  with Mizuki.

(Later, looking back, he really should've known better than to tempt fate.)

 

* * *

 

"Winning isn't everything, Mizuki-san," Haruto said mildly as he scooped up a spoonful of ice-cream.

Across the table, Mizuki borderline-sneered. "And yet, if your goal is to win, as every team worth their name should be aiming for, having that sort of mindset is only setting yourself up for failure."

They had been here for half an hour already, and after the first two minutes of polite greetings and how-do-you-dos, they had proceeded to trade opinions on hypothetical situations when it came to competition.

"True," Haruto agreed. "But there's not much point if you don't have fun winning, is there?"

Mizuki smirked. "Oh, aspiring to win is plenty of fun."

"Really?" Haruto stared avidly at Mizuki. "Even when you go through players like Kleenex?"

Mizuki's eyes abruptly narrowed at this implication. The third-year was smart enough to understand the insinuation. "You are... surprisingly well-informed, Akiyama-kun."

Haruto raised his milkshake as a mock-toast. "Just doing my job. ...As a friendly warning, from one manager to another, you do realize Fuji-senpai is going to destroy you, right?"

Mizuki's lip curled. "He can certainly try. In fact you can give him my regards. My tennis will stop him."

"Hmm," Haruto swallowed another mouthful of ice-cream. "You are underestimating Fuji-senpai, Mizuki-san."

Mizuki cocked a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh?"

Haruto smiled. "Senpai can be a sadistic bastard to people who annoy him. He's predictable like that. You haven't annoyed him, Mizuki-san, you've downright pissed him off, and that's when he becomes the worst kind of player you can meet on the court – the unpredictable sort. Data tennis doesn't do much against people like that."

Haruto thought he might've just scored the first win when he caught the faintest flicker of apprehension in the other manager's eyes.

 


End file.
